


Nothing To Lose But You

by AceEmerson



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Punk, Angst, Blow Jobs, Choking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gavin has a cat, Gavin is a Brat, Gavin is a dick, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Nines and Connor are brothers, Physical hurt/comfort, Piercings, Pining, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Tattoos, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, light kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceEmerson/pseuds/AceEmerson
Summary: Gavin is a student going to college for criminal justice, but he feels like nothing more than an irritable punk with anger issues who likes to push people. Normally that just pushes people away. But a certain guy in his class, Richard Nines, is different. Because Nines pushes back. And Gavin just might be into that.
Relationships: Tina Chen & Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97
Collections: Reed900 Reverse Big Bang





	Nothing To Lose But You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DakotaLIAR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DakotaLIAR/gifts).



> All my thanks to the incredibly talented dakotaliar who was my partner for the Reed900 Reverse Big Bang, and who made the amazing art for this fic! The first piece in the fic served as inspiration to me, and the second piece was created just for our story.
> 
> You can find them on twitter as [@dakotaliar](https://twitter.com/dakotaliar) and on tumblr at [dakotaliar.tumblr.com](https://dakotaliar.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title comes from the Three Days Grace song of the same name

The Detroit morning is cold and overcast, the weather painting the campus in grayscale in the early morning Monday hours. The end of a cigarette burns bright as Gavin Reed inhales deeply, smoke filling his lungs and attempting to warm him even as the chill of the Detroit winter seeps under his skin. A cloud of grays and whites floats off on his exhale, blending in seamlessly with the dimmed color of the morning. Another January. Another semester. Another few months of dealing with the god forsaken people he has to see nearly every day.

He brings the cigarette up to his lips again, sending a glance down to his watch. This time, the smoke comes out with a sigh. The music blaring in his ears isn’t enough to distract him from reality. Less than five minutes before his first class of the semester. Leaning against the wall of the criminology building, he savors his last few moments of peace and quiet before he has to wake up and face the music. He should probably be looking forward to getting back to classes, but the Sophomore slump hit him hard a few months ago, and it’s still got its grip on him. The courses themselves aren’t too bad, it’s just that he can’t stand the majority of people in his college. That’s what he gets for majoring in criminal justice. A bunch of bootlickers and wannabe cops swarming him 24/7. One more drag, and then he drops the butt to the ground, snuffing it out with the toe of his converse before turning to head inside the building. 

Second floor, end of the hallway, lecture hall full of people he doesn’t know, middle of the classroom, empty seat. Gavin sets his roots down firmly, dropping his bag on the ground next to the desk that he’s laying claim to. The middle of the room is always your best bet when you don’t want to be noticed. Professors seem to look towards the front and the back, overlooking the central area that Gavin prefers. 

It’s a double-seat desk and the spot next to him is empty, so he slides his own chair back slightly and props his feet up on the neighboring seat. The body of his laptop is cool, chilled from the outside air as Gavin pulls it out of his backpack and sets it up in front of him. He notices the professor start to speak, so he begrudgingly pulls out his earbuds, even though it’s just for attendance. A glance at the time shows that class is starting on the hour exactly. Great. That means he’ll have to be punctual going forward if he doesn’t want to get called out. 

A few of the names that are called out are familiar to Gavin, having been in the program for long enough to at least know a few people here and there, but there’s no one that he would exactly call a friend. Hell the only person at the damn university he actually _likes_ is Tina. And she’s a senior so it’s not exactly like they’re in all of the same classes. At this point he really only gets to see her outside of class. Gavin spaces out, not really retaining the names as the list goes on. Not until one particular name rings a vague bell, and the student in question responds with an assertive “ _Present_ ” right in front of him.

He looks up, not sure what he’s expecting, but whatever it is, it’s not what he sees. The guy ahead of him, _Richard Nines_ the professor had said, has a commanding presence. Pin straight posture, sharp striking features, intense gray eyes, a trail of piercings along both ears, and stark tattoos contrasting his skin. Black fragmenting triangles trail up his arms, and along his neck, sneaking their way under the edges of his black turtleneck. Gavin fights the urge to gulp when Richard turns and catches his eye, making him feel caught and vulnerable as he does nothing but sit there and stare. There’s something about those eyes that makes him nearly shiver. But Gavin Reed has never been one to back down from a confrontation, so he doesn’t break the link, holding a steady gaze with the other man. Richard moves to make his way around the desk, and it’s then that Gavin notices one other tattoo, a dark circle at the guy’s left temple. That’s when it clicks, why he recognized the name.

Suppressing the need to roll his eyes, Gavin throws on a smirk. He’s already met one half of the Nines brothers, so he knows what he’s walking into here.

“Nines, huh? You Connor's brother then?” Gavin asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

He had a class with Connor last semester and because if there is a God, then he harbors a hatred for Gavin personally, they of course had to end up working together on one of the assignments. There was nothing wrong with the guy and that was actually the whole fucking problem. The guy was a kiss-ass, always brown nosing and trying to get on everyone’s good side. Yell at the guy to make you a coffee and he’ll come back with a piping hot cup like a little lapdog. Sure, Connor made the assignment a breeze with his major in Forensic Science, grasping the core concept of data and analytics immediately and being damn good at what he does, but it was his personality that drove Gavin up the wall. By the book and eager to make friends, and not to mention a die-hard dog person, he was the complete counterpoint of Gavin’s entire MO.

Of course Connor had talked about his brother. Gavin had asked him one day about the tattoo at his temple, the simple black circle that matches the one he sees on Richard now. Connor had yammered on about how he and his brother had the same tattoo. Something about family and connection and blah blah blah. He had also said that Richard was younger than him, but looking at the guy now, that’s a bit hard to believe. Richard looks to at least have a few years (and a couple inches) on him, but maybe it’s just the vibe that he gives off.

“Yeah, I am,” is all Richard says, chin inclined slightly as if to challenge Gavin to talk shit about his brother.

Before Gavin can react, the guy reaches out and shoves his feet off of the neighboring seat. The force of the movement sends Gavin’s chair spinning, completely throwing him off his game. He reaches out quickly to ground himself on the desk in front of him, head spinning a moment from the jarring movement. When he finally looks over again, Richard is taking his place in the now-empty seat, opening his bag and pulling out his laptop like nothing at all happened. 

There’s a pounding in Gavin’s chest and a rushing in his ears, anger rising hot and fast in him. But it’s mixed with something else. Not just rage, but also a feeling of having his legs knocked out from under him, of being put in his place, of something that gives him a rush. It clouds his thoughts and all he can do is stare in disbelief at the guy who is now all but ignoring him. With that pin-straight posture, his calm expression, and those intense gray eyes. Who the hell has gray eyes anyway? Is that even a color eyes can be? They look unnatural and-

“Gavin Reed?”

Gavin jolts, startled as he looks up towards the front of the room, the professor glancing up from his computer. Oh right, attendance. 

“H-here!” Gavin calls, instantly cringing at the wavering, higher-pitched sound of his own voice.

A snicker comes from beside him, and his head snaps to the left, being greeted by the sight of Richard smirking to himself as he looks down at his laptop. Anger and embarrassment flare in tandem, and Gavin bites even as he feels his face get hot, scornful laughter in his ears as the man sneers.

“Hey fuck you! You surprised me, asshole,” he snaps, like a wild animal baring its teeth as it gets backed into a corner. 

“Next time, don’t put your feet in my seat then,” Richard suggests, calm and intense in a way that must be his default state.

“ _Your_ seat?” Gavin scoffs, not backing down from the challenge in front of him, “I don’t see your name on it, dickwad.”

Richard doesn’t have a response at first. Not a verbal one at least. He grabs a pen from his bag and turns to the side of the joint desk they’re now apparently sharing. With sharp and sure movements, he writes _Nines_ in dark black ink on the desk, the sprawling handwriting meant to last.

“Well now you do,” Richard responds, turning his attention back forward and giving a bit of a smirk as he adds an imitation of Gavin’s insult, “ _‘dickwad’._ ”

There’s a boiling in Gavin’s blood, the need to bite back and keep up their petty little argument mixing with a feeling akin to satisfaction. He thrives on this kind of interaction, the back and forth bickering, the pushing and shoving, the arguments and sharp comments. It somehow quells and riles him at the same time. 

The professor starts to speak, and Gavin bites his tongue, settling back into his seat and trying to at least half-focus on the class. Trying his best to ignore the asshole sitting next to him, knowing fully well that he’s letting Richard have the last word. 

\--

When Gavin walks into his shitty university-affiliated apartment that evening, the first thing that greets him is a meowing at his feet. He kicks off his shoes as Riggs, the one-eyed gremlin he is, follows yelling his head off.

“Calm down, I just walked in the door, jesus,” Gavin grumbles, shrugging off his jacket and tossing his backpack by the door.

The only response he gets is a pleading mewl and the cat flopping on the ground right in front of Gavin’s feet, stretching and giving another cry. Fucking drama queen. He’s lucky he’s cute.

“Hungry?” Gavin asks, making his way to the little kitchenette his place houses.

Riggs follows eagerly, watching Gavin’s every move as the human scoops him out some food and fills his empty bowl. The cat gives an excited little mew, and shoves his head in the bowl. He’s as fast as a bullet when he’s hungry, matching his Lethal Weapon namesake and making Gavin chuckle slightly. 

“Thought so,” he muses, more to himself than anything.

One thing that’s nice about living alone this year is that there’s no one around to judge how much he talks to his cat. And no one he has to convince to help him hide Riggs from the RA.

He pours himself a glass of water and moves into the living area, practically collapsing on the small couch in the center of his small studio apartment. As far as the first day of the semester goes, today was about average. A handful of classes for the Monday-Wednesday-Friday cycle, and he’ll have a couple more tomorrow for the Tuesday-Thursday classes. A few electives, a few core classes, but nothing that he’s necessarily looking forward to or dreading. Except maybe…

Riggs hops up onto the couch, and fits himself at Gavin’s side, flopping against the man’s thigh and hanging his chin off the side of the cushion. His fur is soft and fluffy as Gavin reaches out to pet the cat’s slate gray fluff. Gray seems to be a recurring color in his life lately.

Biopsychosocial Criminology. His first class of the semester. The one he spent this morning sharing a desk with Richard Nines. The guy was a whole different creature than his brother, intense and confident with a dominating presence. With those gray eyes. Where Connor was eager to please and be liked, Richard seems unbothered by Gavin’s opinion of him, not afraid to push back when Gavin tries to be an asshole. Normally Gavin appreciates that in a guy: someone who gives back as good as he gets. _Normally_. But not with Richard. No, Richard just got on his nerves, got under his skin. Once they had fallen silent during class, Gavin would be lying if he said he retained anything that the professor said for the full 2 hour class. He would also be lying if he said he hadn’t felt riled up when the guy stood up after they were dismissed, looking down at Gavin and said “see you around, Gavin”. Richard had just quirked his lips into an almost-smile when Gavin had responded with a snorted “unfortunately” back at the guy.

Shaking his head, Gavin scratches Riggs behind the ears, watching as the cat leans into the touch. The tattoos on his knuckles flex and move with the scratch. Roman numerals I through IV on his left hand. They had hurt like hell to get, far worse than the inked panther snarling up his neck or the snake along his wrist, making his ear piercings feel like nothing at all. The memory of the sting of the gun makes him wonder how much it hurt for the Nines brothers to get their temple tattoos. As far as he can remember, that had been the only tattoo Connor had had. But Richard… well he doesn’t seem to be a stranger to body mods. The earrings trailing up his ears, the triangles on his forearms, on his neck… They had actually looked pretty good on him.

Gavin downs the rest of his water and pushes up from the couch, leaving Riggs staring plaintively after his owner before the man returns only a moment later with guitar in hand. He takes his spot on the couch once again as his fingers find the frets. If there’s one thing that can help him stay grounded and level-headed in the midst of his life, it’s music. He tunes the instrument absent-mindedly, such second nature that he could do it in his sleep. Then he takes a breath. And he plays.

\--

By the time Wednesday rolls around, it’s finally starting to feel like the semester has actually started. There are assignments with deadlines, the add/drop period is looming, and this morning marks the first day when repeat classes are occurring. Riggs sends his owner off with a pounce to his ankle as he walks by, and Gavin shoves his earbuds deep into his ears as he heads out the front door. Locking the place behind him with one hand, and hitting play on his phone with the other, a smile just hints at his feature as a strong bassline drums its way into his brain. The last thing he was listening to must’ve been Three Days Grace. Perfect.

The walk to the criminology building isn’t bad, even with the biting cold whipping around him. Sure it means that he can’t light a smoke until he finds a place that shields the wind, but the nipping of the winter cold at his skin wakes him up. His fingers drum a rhythm on his thigh, in time with the beat in his ears. With music and the rush of the cold, it’s not long before he’s looking up at the old brick facade of his destination. A quick glance to his phone tells him he has just enough time to light up a cig before he needs to get inside.

Gavin can’t hear the snap of his lighter over the music blaring in his ears, but after smoking for as long as he has, he can feel it in his bones. This is one of the times that he really regrets picking up the habit. When he has to stand outside in the elements just to take the edge off. The burn in his lungs, the heat that comes with it, it’s all nice when it’s just a bit cool out, or when you’re walking to and fro… But when you’re prolonging your exposure to the cold, or standing out in the heat on a summer’s day? God it feels terrible. Still, he doesn’t know if he could handle life without smoking. He had picked up the habit as a teen because he thought it made him seem cool, made him appear like the guy he wanted to be. A standoffish punk who took no shit from anyone. There’s this rabid energy in him, a dog about to snap, that he has never really learned how to quel. Certain things: playing guitar, smoking, playing with Riggs; Gavin has learned that they help.

A prickle of heat approaches Gavin’s fingers and he realizes he’s just about finished the cigarette. He drops it to the ground and crushes it under his boot, deja vu hitting him hard. _Ah, here we go again,_ he muses to himself, running a hand through his messy hair and heading in the building. It’s hard not to fall into a rut, to live in a constant state of deja vu, when your life follows such a structured schedule, a hard and fast rule that keeps him in check. But then again, it’s not forever. Just till he graduates.

He hesitates as he crosses the threshold, eyes scanning the open areas in the room and immediately falling on one particular desk. The one he had on Monday. If he sits there, Richard might take it upon himself to join him once again, ruining his focus and his peace and quiet by himself. Then again…. If he sits elsewhere, does that just make him a pushover? Giving in and letting Richard have the whole desk to himself? Fuck, what if he sits somewhere else and then the guy sits next to him again? More importantly, why does he care so goddamn much?

With a grumble, Gavin makes a beeline right to the familiar desk, tossing his stuff down and throwing himself into the seat with authority. Richard isn’t here yet, so it’s up to Gavin to make the first move. And he’s not someone to back down or submit to another guy. He grits his teeth and ignores the name inked into the side of the desk. It would have been nice if the school would bother to clean up graffiti and vandalism with a fraction of all the goddamn money they draw from Gavin’s bank account every semester. 

Gavin tugs one of the earbuds out of his ear, pulling out his laptop and pointedly not paying attention to everyone who walks through the door at the front of the classroom. He tells himself the only reason he notices the second Richard walks through the door is because of the guy’s intense presence. He’s wearing a leather jacket today, framing his shoulders and making him look taller than before. Did he look that tall on Monday? Is he just wearing thicker shoes now? Making sure his attention is focused elsewhere, Gavin stares at his blank computer screen while he sees Richard approach from the corner of his eye. Fuck, of course the asshole would decide to come sit next to him and harass him again.

“Gavin, right?” Richard asks, voice nonchalant and even as he pulls out the chair next to Gavin’s and takes a seat.

The man in question gives a snort, trying to sound as off-the-cuff as his apparent new seat partner.

“You’re asking me, but I know you know my name if you wanna sit next to me so bad,” Gavin teases, leaning slightly back in his seat and stretching his arms up to pillow his hands behind his head.

Richard just raises an eyebrow, clearly not impressed with Gavin’s attitude.

“I think you’re the one who wants to sit next to me,” Richard responds, forefinger flicking the tattooed wood on his side of the desk with a sharp tap, “my name is on this spot and everything.”

Gavin wants to have a comeback for that, he really does, but he doesn’t. The guy has a point; he knew Richard would plan to sit there, regardless of the name. The inked _Nines_ on the desk is just icing on the cake. He rolls his eyes and shrugs, trying to act like he doesn’t care. Because really he _doesn’t._

“I told Connor you said hi,” Richard mentions, pulling his own stuff out of his bag.

That makes Gavin pause. He didn’t tell Richard to tell his brother that, did he? No he definitely didn’t. Is the guy just fucking with him?

“Well why did you do that? I never would have told you to say hey to him for me,” Gavin retorts, indignation in his voice, “Connor is just-”

“Just what, Reed?” Richard interrupts, voice stern and cold, startling Gavin mid-sentence.

Turning to look at Richard, Gavin is met with icy gray eyes boring into him. The other guy is turned entirely towards him in his seat, forearm on the desk as he leans in. There’s something dangerous in the look he gives Gavin, something that’s daring Gavin to say one bad word about Connor. Gavin swallows hard, mouth dry as his heart pounds in his chest. Something tells him that if he continues his previous thought, he’s gonna be walking out of here with a busted nose.

“Just nothing, _Nines,_ ” Gavin responds, words backtracking even as his tone and choice of name comes out as a challenge, “we had a class together, we’re not exactly friends. That’s all.”

That seems to satisfy Richard. At least enough for Gavin to save face (literally). He pulls back and turns his attention back to his laptop.

“You’d be damn lucky to have a friend like him,” Richard adds, and although Gavin doubts it, he doesn’t offer a rebuttal.

When class starts up, the professor actually getting into lecturing instead of just reviewing the syllabus, Gavin tries his best to listen. He really does. And honestly, it should be easier to focus today than it was on Monday, what with the meeting being actually about relevant material and all, but nothing sticks. No matter how much Gavin listens and focuses and takes notes, his brain refuses to absorb the information being provided. Just like last time, it seems like an entire part of his attention is partitioned off for the asshole next to him. With the leather jacket and those intense eyes. With the way he gives off an air that makes Gavin shiver.

Fuck, why is this dickwad getting to him? Gavin’s used to dealing with assholes, but he never feels so challenged as he does by Richard Nines. By the way he mindlessly spins his pen back and forth over his knuckles, the way that he sometimes glances over in Gavin’s direction to catch the guy pointedly NOT staring at him. Biopsychosocial Criminology should be interesting. It should be something he’s actually interested in learning about.

He doesn’t even realize class has been dismissed until there’s commotion all around him, students packing up their stuff left and right. A little shaken, he packs up his stuff accordingly, getting to his feet and turning only to see Richard standing there looking at him. Okay yeah fuck the guy is definitely taller than Gavin had originally thought on Monday. The guy has to have close to half a foot on him. It knocks Gavin down a peg in surprise, and gives him a rush in his veins that he doesn’t quite understand. Something fast and electric that makes his heart race even as he tilts his chin up slightly in defiance.

“Guess I’ll see you on Monday then, Gavin,” Richard says, voice level without much inflection.

Gavin can’t tell if it’s a challenge, a tease, or just a statement. It’s actually kind of hard to figure the guy out.

“Yeah I guess,” he responds with a shrug, trying to express that he _really doesn’t care,_ before throwing on a bit of a smug grin and adding, “gonna be setting a countdown until you get to see me again, Nines?”

He’s expecting a bite back, a challenge, something that knocks the ball back in his court. What he gets is so far the opposite of that that it leaves him speechless.

“Maybe,” Richard responds, a hint of a smirk twitching at his lips as he gives Gavin a wink before turning on his heels and heading right out of the room.

All Gavin can do is stare in disbelief. Is he hallucinating? Did that asshole just… wink at him? Was that flirting? What the fuck is happening? Regardless of Richard’s intent with the comment and his action, Gavin has no control over the heat on his face and the pounding in his chest.

\--

A hand snapping, loud and sharp, right in front of his eyes pulls Gavin from his distracted trance. He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, greeting by the side of a pissed-off Tina standing right in front of him. 

“What the fuck, Chen?” Gavin snaps back, baring his teeth in frustration.

“Hey don’t ‘what the fuck’ _me,_ Gavin. You fucked up that solo so bad, I have half a mind to kick you out right now,” Tina responds, not in the least bit fazed by Gavin’s pissy attitude.

Gavin grips his guitar tighter, facing off against the bassist in front of him even though he knows that she’s right. Somewhere after they hit the chorus he got so fucking distracted and hearing that he messed up his part really isn’t a surprise. He was just thinking about-

“Hey I have a lot on my mind, okay?” Gavin responds, not missing the way a flash of concern reaches Tina’s face, before he throws his hands up dramatically, “just sue me, god forbid I mess up my part during practice.”

Chris and Valerie seem to be letting Tina handle the angry and snapping Gavin Reed, instead focusing on their guitar and drum kit respectively. They’ve all learned that Tina is the number one person who can put Gavin in his place is Miss Tina Chen. A finger jabs Gavin in the chest, and Tina doesn’t back down.

“We have a show in two days, and you know as well as the rest of us that we need to know our parts,” Tina explains, and Gavin doesn’t really have an argument.

She’s right. He knows she’s right. They have a show this Sunday at one of their favorite venues downtown. If he can’t focus on his role in the band, he shouldn’t be taking it out on the rest of them. He shouldn’t make them struggle just because he is. But he’s Gavin Reed, and he’s not exactly the best at making decisions when it comes to his own shortcomings.

Tina steps back, knowing she’s gotten through to him and suggests a song. This time, when Val counts off behind him, Gavin focuses on the music and gives his full attention to his part.

\--

The cigarette between Gavin’s fingers has just about run out by the time Tina comes out and joins him on the porch. She takes a seat next to him on the top step, offering him a beer which he accepts gratefully. The air is cold, but luckily the wind died down around the time the sun set. It gets pretty hot inside the cramped basement of Tina and Val’s apartment, so the cool air feels nice on Gavin’s overheated skin, making him glad he brought his jacket outside with him. Faded black denim that’s distressed from overuse, fraying at the edges and looking well lived-in.

Everything he wears looks this way. Worn and faded. Rough and tumble. Ripped and lackluster. Just like him. From his scuffed up sneakers, all the way up to his scarred face. 

Neither of them breaks the silence until Gavin’s beer is half gone, sloshing around at the bottom half of the bottle.

“Alright, what’s on your mind, mr emo?” Tina finally asks, joking tone doing a good job at masking the concern behind her question.

“Nothing earth-shattering,” Gavin mumbles, lifting the bottle for another drink before adding, “just the start of the semester. And there’s this guy in one of my classes who-”

“Ohhh,” Tina interrupts, the intonation in her voice making Gavin’s skin prickle, “a _guy,_ huh?”

Gavin grits his teeth while he pointedly doesn’t turn to give her his full attention. He should have known talking to Tina would be a bad idea. 

“It’s not like that, T,” Gavin practically growls back, teeth clenched as his fingernails pick roughly at the label on his beer bottle, “he’s just been annoying the shit out of me, and we’ve only had two classes together so far. I can barely even focus on the damn lectures.”

He doesn’t need to turn his gaze to know that Tina is smirking, thinking she has him figured out. Well she doesn’t. Just because a guy is getting under his skin doesn’t mean he has a thing for him. It’s the complete opposite. He can’t stand to be around the guy. He’s not into him.

“Do you remember when I complained about that Connor guy?” Gavin asks, hoping a bit of background will explain the situation better to his friend, “from my Criminal Justice Data and Analytics course last semester?”

“Yeah, you had a project with him or something right?” Tina responds before questioning, “is it him again?”

“Worse. It’s his brother, Richard. And the guy is such an asshole,” Gavin clarifies, an irritated _ugh_ leaving his throat subconsciously. 

“An actual asshole? Or your version of an asshole?”

Gavin finally gives Tina his attention at the question, a bit confused at that. Isn’t everyone’s version of an asshole pretty damn similar? His confusion must be clear on his face because Tina just smiles and elaborates.

“You know. Someone who’s actually a good guy, and who wants people to like him and tries to make friends,” she explains, a bit of a laugh in her voice before she adds, “oh, or someone who’s a dog person and doesn’t like cats.”

Gavin rolls his eyes, but he knows her words have merit. He’s sure he called Connor an asshole back then. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he might have used that exact word when explaining how Connor had made him a piping hot cup of coffee just because Gavin had told him to.

“An actual asshole. Like someone who pushes your feet off a seat and writes his name on the desk you’re using. Someone who makes fun of you and teases you, and gets all up in your space. Who dresses all punk and tattooed and acts like he’s so tough and tall. And someone who acts like he’s gonna punch your lights out for insulting their brother, and who looks like they probably _could_ punch your lights out with no hesitation with their big hands and...” Gavin trails off, eyebrows narrowing in irritation at the sight and sound of Tina laughing at him, “hey! What’s so funny?”

“God, I wish you could hear yourself,” Tina responds, falling into another fit of laughter that only serves to make Gavin angrier, “he’s so tall and he’s got such big hands and-”

There’s a boiling in his blood, anger and embarrassment filling him up with heat and tension. He wants to throw a punch, yell, maybe throw his beer bottle. But he would never hurt Tina, and she doesn’t deserve to be yelled at. Her porch doesn’t deserve to have Gavin’s hand broken against either. So Gavin fights back the anger rearing its ugly head inside of him. He stares at the numbers inked into his skin, running his thumb over each one, trying to ground himself. Once upon a time he would let himself get angry and violent, but not now, not with Tina next to him, being a friend and asking him about what’s been going on with himself. Even if she _is_ being a dick about it.

“It’s not like that,” Gavin insists, fuming as his face burns.

Tina just laughs, apparently loving the effect she has on the normally tough and angry punk. Gavin tilts back his head, downing the rest of his beer in one go, and ignoring the way that even his ears feel hot. It’s not because of Richard fucking Nines. It’s because of Tina fucking Chen.

“Well, is he at least hot?”

And that is the last straw for Gavin. He pushes himself back up from his spot and straightens his jacket, turning to head back inside of the house. He pauses right in the threshold just long enough to respond.

“No, he’s not hot.”

Heading back inside, he isn’t sure if he was telling the truth.

\--

Backstage, right before the start of the show, Gavin feels like someone has plugged him into an outlet. There’s energy and electricity in his veins, fueling him on. A mix of nervousness, anxiety, excitement, and anticipation swirling within him. Right here, right now, he’s focusing on the show. On the yell of the crowd out there. On the feel of his guitar in his hands. On the high fives and slaps on the back from his bandmates. On the echoes of loud guitar and heavy drums from the band before. He’s focusing on the present.

He’s not focusing on walking through campus earlier and seeing Richard and Connor hanging in the quad with some friends. He’s not focusing on the way Richard stood out like a sore thumb amongst them. On the black jeans, the tight fitting shirt, or on the laced up black boots. On the way Richard was twirling his pen through his fingers again, on the way Gavin had noticed the man was left handed and had felt some sort of way about that. He’s not focusing on the way Richard had caught him staring, or on the way the man had just smiled when Gavin had flipped him off. He’s not focusing or thinking about that. He’s not. He’s _not._

Tina punches him in the shoulder and gives him a thumbs up, a bright smile that gives him a confidence boost. Because they’re about to play a show. And they’re about to fucking kill. And that’s the only thing that Gavin is thinking about right now. The only thing.

They make their way out on stage, and the rush of adrenaline makes Gavin’s heart race in his chest. Nerves and excitement swirl in his veins, and he grins to the crowd. Knowing himself however, it probably looks more feral snarl than anything friendly. It doesn’t really matter that much, what with this being a punk scene and everything. He takes his place on the far side of the stage, glancing over just in time to see Tina throw her fist up in the air, getting a yell from the crowd. The crowd loves her. They always do. Everyone always does. As much as people hate Gavin, they tend to love Tina, and he really can’t blame them.

Chris steps up to the mic, grabbing it with one hand and amping up the crowd even more. Fingers finding the frets, Gavin steadies himself and mentally prepares to launch into the first song, waiting for the cue and for Valerie to count them off. The snapping of drumsticks behind him clicks loud in his ears, and right before he hits the first note, barely a second before his pick comes into contact with the strings, he thinks he catches a familiar face in the crowd. Just for a moment. 

\--

If anyone ever cared to pay attention to Richard Nines and Gavin Reed, they would likely be both surprised _and_ unsurprised to see the pair sit next to each other during the second week of classes. Gavin had taken his seat without any visible hesitation, and Richard had slid in next to him with similar nonchalance. The quips that had started up immediately from Gavin’s end were far from a surprise as well.

“What does a guy have to do to get a desk on his own around here?” Gavin asks, kicking back in his chair in a way that is somehow already starting to feel second nature.

“Hmm,” Richard muses, almost as if not hearing the other man before turning with a slightly inquisitive tone, “well have you ever tried asking nicely?”

The way the guy quirks an eyebrow, gray eyes somehow both intense and teasing, makes Gavin’s heart pound. They both know the answer to that question. Of course Gavin hasn’t tried asking nicely. He’s never asked for anything nicely in his life.

An almost-smile quirks the corner of Richard’s lips. It’s just a moment, barely a whisper of a smile, before he turns away leaving Gavin silently fuming. There’s an unsaid _I didn’t think so_ in the air, one that makes Gavin clench his fist and grit his teeth. One that makes Gavin’s face feel warm. 

Of course, now that he’s lost his initial chance to respond, he’s losing any opportunity entirely because the professor is beginning class. Except today doesn’t seem like it’s going to be a full two hours of lecturing, because they’re being assigned a case that they’re supposed to work through in class today and answer some questions on. With partners. Fuck. He’s not exactly friends with anyone in this class, and he doubts anyone would want to partner up with him. Maybe he can just do it on his own. He’d prefer that actually because then-

“Is ‘Reed’ spelled R-E-A-D?”

Gavin’s head snaps to look over at his seat partner, those gray eyes questioning him again. The guy is leaning slightly over the desk yet still maintaining perfect posture as his hand hovers a pen slightly over the paper in front of him. His left hand. So Gavin was right; the guy is left handed.

“No, actually it’s…,” Gavin starts to answer, before the situation really dawns on him, “wait hold on I never said I would work with you, dickwad!”

Richard isn’t phased. He never is. It’s one of the things about him that is slowly getting under Gavin’s skin. He crosses his arms on the desk and leans back slightly, eyes still locked on Gavin.

“Would you like to work with me, Gavin?” Richard asks, a slight pause between each word making the question come out slow, like asking a question to a child.

Gavin wasn’t expecting that question. At least, not asked so earnestly. Well fuck what is he supposed to do now? If he says no he’ll be on his own. But if he says yes he’ll be roped in to working with this asshole. Gritting his teeth, Gavin swallows down his pride and scowls as he looks away.

“Sure. Fine,” he responds, trying to sound as indignant as possible.

The click of a pen draws his attention back to his partner, and he realizes he never gave the correct spelling of his last name.

“Oh and it’s R-E-E-D by the way,” Gavin supplies, before adding for clarity, “like the mouthpiece.”

There’s a glance in his direction, just a tiny flit of cold gray eyes towards him before they return to the paper. His word choice paired with the small glimpse makes Gavin regret ever opening his mouth. Makes him regret ever being born. He wants to defend himself, but as Richard quickly jots down the correct spelling of his name, making no move to tease him or anything, Gavin figures it’s safer just to ignore it and let it pass by.

Normally he’s not so stuck with his goddamn foot in his mouth. Normally he’s good with quips and snappy remarks, comebacks rolling off the tongue like they’re second nature. But there’s something about his damn seat partner that makes everything feel awry, just off-kilter enough to make him notice. It’s annoying. Nines is annoying too. Tina was wrong with her teasing. It’s not that Richard is attractive or hot or anything. It’s just that he’s so fucking _annoying,_ and Gavin just can’t stand the guy. And yet here he is, partnered up with the guy as they share a desk.

Gavin can hear Tina’s voice in his head, laughing and telling him he does a damn good job at showing how much he hates the guy. Fuck.

He figures it’s probably best to just get to work and get this shit over with, so he pulls the case up on his laptop. It’s not too long, just a few pages, so he focuses in and starts reading through it. His seat partner must be doing the same, because Gavin can see him out of the corner of his eye, eyes fixed on his own computer screen. It’s silent between them as they read through the document independently, but when Gavin scrolls just past the halfway point of the case, he’s distracted by Richard shifting and clicking around on his computer. It wasn’t a competition to see who could finish reading first, but Gavin still feels like he’s lost. Like the guy is showing off and trying to act like he’s better than Gavin. Fuck him and his fast reading skills.

When Gavin finally hits the bottom of the case, Richard’s already looking through the questions they’re supposed to answer. 

Working through the questions actually doesn’t end up being too bad. Richard actually knows what he’s talking about and his perspective on the case isn’t as conservative as Gavin would have expected. Most of the people in the program tend to be sticklers for the rules and laws, not allowing room for much give. But then again, most of the people in the program seem to come from nicer backgrounds. Not all of them have had run-ins with the law. Or at least, not as many as Gavin has. So it’s surprising when Richard and Gavin agree on so many points in their analysis.

Richard writes up their discussion, his handwriting somehow simultaneously neat and messy: a rough scrawl that is still clearly legible. Gavin’s handwriting always ends up on one side of the spectrum or the other. It’s either so bad that he can’t read his own notes, or so neat that it looks foreign. Depends on if he gives a fuck or not. He remembers Connors handwriting being neat and stiff, almost computer-generated in his appearance. The only reason he can recall that fact is because of how strange it had seemed at the time.

With stiff scratching and a low even voice, Richard moves them through the report easily. The later questions require a bit more thought than the earlier ones, and in the moments when they both sit thinking, Gavin finds himself distracted yet again. Because Richard is one of those guys who knows how to spin his pen around his fingers. Gavin’s never been able to do it, but it’s nothing special, nothing unique. But still… He can’t stop himself from staring as the guy sitting next to him absent-mindedly flicks and spins the simple black pen across his knuckles, around his thumb, all without giving it a second thought. Richard has nice hands. Long fingers. Too bad the rest of him is… Is… Well he just sucks, okay?

They end up finishing a bit before the end of class, so Gavin is more than happy to pack his shit up while Richard goes and turns in their assignment, spending the time trying to formulate the best quip to throw the guy’s way before leaving. Normally insults and snarky remarks come as easily as breathing, but Richard has been catching him off-guard enough to throw him off of his game. And of course, the guy is throwing him a loop as soon as he returns from his trip to the professor.

“Hey, do you wanna work on the case assignment together?” Richard asks, as nonchalant and casual as ever, standing at the end of the desk.

Gavin throws his backpack over his shoulder and turns to face his desk partner. He fights back a wince as he’s faced with their height difference, being reminded of the few inches the guy has on him, tilting his chin up slightly.

“Do we have another one?” Gavin asks, honestly not remembering having another case due, but knowing he’s never been any good at keeping track of things.

“Yeah. Due next week. We’re allowed to work with partners if you want to bounce ideas off of each other.”

There’s a stupid, hostile, self-deprecating part of Gavin that sounds off in the back of his mind. It’s a voice that tells him that Richard is tricking him, making fun of him. That he’s just offering to laugh in his face and say that they don’t have anything due. But Gavin mentally shakes it off. Richard may be right there with quips and comebacks, but he’s never gone out of the way to be malicious.

If they do have an assignment, it _would_ be nice to have someone to work on it with. Especially someone like Richard who isn’t gonna fight him on different views. But then again, that means he’s gonna have to talk to the asshole. In the moment however, he can’t remember why that would be such a bad idea.

“Sure,” Gavin responds with a one-armed shrug, trying to seem casual and unbothered, like he couldn’t care either way.

There’s a moment of what seems like a smile on Richards face, but then the guy is turning to grab something from his jacket pocket, and the expression is gone. Richard pulls a phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, making a comment about exchanging numbers, and Gavin realizes that oh yeah, that’s something they should do. He pulls his own phone out of his pocket, opening his contacts just in time to exchange phones with his partner. Maybe Gavin’s just imagining things, but for some reason his phone looks so much smaller in Richard’s hand than it had in his own.

He quickly enters his information (first and last name, phone number, and email) before they swap phones back. As Richard takes his phone back, there’s a brief moment where their hands brush, and Gavin pulls back so fast he almost drops his phone. Richard either doesn’t notice, or chooses not to comment, because he acts like nothing at all happened. Like there wasn’t some sort of static shock that went between them that almost caused Gavin to fumble his $300 phone. Fuck. It must’ve just been a moment of surprise. It caught him off-guard. That’s it. That’s all it was.

“Cool. I’ll text you once I start on it,” Richard says, as cool and casual as ever, not even looking in Gavin’s direction as he talks.

Gavin doesn’t have enough time to respond before the guy is heading out of the room, leaving Gavin stunned and confused. Holy fuck what is _wrong_ with him??

\--

The cursor on Gavin’s laptop blinks, forgotten, at the top of an empty page. It’s almost 10 pm on Tuesday night and he has a report due tomorrow, but working on it is the last thing on his mind at this point. He had tried to get started on it well over an hour ago, had brewed coffee and thrown on his rock study playlist, but he couldn’t get his mind to focus, his thoughts zeroed in on the phone on his desk. Almost by habit at this point, Gavin wakes up his phone, unsurprised to see no new messages. Nines had said he would text him whenever he got started on the case for their shared class, and since the assignment isn’t due until next Wednesday, yeah it’s no surprise that the guy hasn’t started yet. And of course, Gavin could always start on his own and reach out, but that would mean he would have to be the one to break the silence between them. Not that there’s _silence_ between them, but neither of them have said anything. 

A clatter catches Gavin’s attention as Riggs jumps up onto his desk and knocks over an empty coffee mug. Gavin shakes his head and reaches out to scratch behind the cat’s ears, a slight smile playing on his lips. The little guy has no depth perception with only one eye, but it never stopped him from jumping and climbing wherever he wanted, and it probably never will. Riggs gives a big yawn in response to the scratches and flops down on Gavin’s laptop, causing a series of letters and symbols to pop up on the page onscreen. Well, that’s further than Gavin’s gotten all night. Because of Nines. 

When Gavin had looked down at his phone yesterday as he was leaving class, he had noticed that the guy hadn’t included his first name. Just his last name in the first name field, making Gavin realize that pretty much any time he’s opened his mouth, he’s called his partner by his last name. Nines fits him better. It’s different. It’s cooler. Not that the guy is cool, but he’s definitely not normal.

Gavin drums his fingers against his desk, distracted and spacing out. It shouldn’t matter who makes the first move. It shouldn’t matter when they start. But there's an anxious feeling creeping its way along Gavin’s neck, making him doubt himself. It could be a fake number. It could end up actually being a joke. It could be a bet Nines has with Connor. It could be a million things devised to poke fun at him. 

There’s an ache in his knuckles and Gavin notices that he’s started clenching his fist, an annoying habit that normally goes hand in hand with his paranoia and his anger issues. He stares at the numbers on his fingers and forces himself to stop making such a big deal out of some pointless exchange between a classmate. It doesn’t matter.

Grabbing his phone, he unlocks it and pulls up Nines’ contact. There’s a slight hesitation, but then he hits the button to send the guy a text. If he just bites the bullet and gets it over with now, he won’t have to worry about it for the rest of the night. His thumb hovers over the keyboard and he pauses. Fuck, he doesn’t have time to start the assignment. He hasn’t even read the case yet. He considers closing his phone and trying to ignore the anxiety that is twisting him up, but he sighs and mentally pushes away that option, knowing it’ll never work.

Riggs stretches and a few more nonsense characters pop up on screen and Gavin has a moment where he wonders if Nines is also taking this class. It’s a core class for his major, and although he’s never asked his partner his major, Gavin has always kind of assumed it was in the Criminology department. It’s kind of hard to imagine someone outside of Criminology taking Biopsychosocial Criminology.

He’s overthinking this. He doesn’t know how to think about things a normal amount. He’s always either overthinking or not thinking at all. Fuck it.

_r u in CRIM 260?_

He sends the message without giving himself another moment to think. The text bubble slides up, and the moment it says delivered, he locks his phone and puts it down. It would be pointless to just sit and watch his screen like some sort of desperate middle schooler texting their crush. Now that texting Nines is out of the way, he should get started on his report. With careful and scratch-scarred hands, he picks up the still-sleepy Riggs and moves him over to an empty corner of the desk. The cat gives an irritated meow, but doesn’t protest, immediately flopping down again to go back to sleep.

Gavin erases the mess Riggs made of the paper, and starts typing out the header for the report. He’s halfway through the title of the report when his phone chimes, earning another irritated noise from the sleepy cat. It takes some self control but Gavin manages not to scramble for his phone. When he looks down, the lock screen alerts him of a message from Nines. He ignores the way his heart races slightly as he unlocks the phone and reads the message

_I took it last semester. Do you need help?_

The problem with texting is that you can’t tell tone in a message. Is Nines just being formal and offering help, thinking that’s why Gavin is reaching out? Or is he just being patronizing, teasing Gavin like the guy deserves?

_theres a report due tmrw and i just dont wanna do it_

Gavin responds honestly, ignoring Nines’ question. The guy has reads on, and Gavin sees that his message has been read just about as soon as it’s sent. A typing bubble appears without so much as a delay.

_Have you considered… doing it?_

Gavin snorts as he reads the reply, but there’s a smile on his lips. This is definitely teasing. He can almost see Nines quirk an eyebrow at him. Can almost see those steel gray eyes with a hint of a smile.

_o wow dickwad ur a genius what would i do w/out u_

Once again, there’s no delay in his message being read. But this time, when the typing bubble pops up, another message doesn’t come through. It disappears after a moment. And then appears again. And then disappears. Gavin frowns at his phone, irritation prickling at his skin. Just send a message, asshole. After a moment, he gets his wish.

_Who knows. Now go do your report, Reed._

Gavin knows Nines is right. He should work on his report. As much as he wants to keep going back and forth with the jerk on the other end of the phone. His hand lingers on his phone just a moment longer, but then he locks it and puts it down. Turning his music up a bit louder, Gavin pulls his attention back to his laptop and gets to work in a considerably better mood than he was in 30 minutes ago. 

\--

Sweat and smoke fill the air, mingling with the scent of alcohol and energy of the venue. Gavin feels amped up and in a good mood as he and his friends mill around backstage, waiting for their cue to go play. The place they’re playing is a two-story joint. Venue on the top floor, and bar on the bottom, making it a favorite for their little crew. They can pack up after the show and then go get hammered below deck for the rest of the night without having to lug their gear around to another place.

It’s a Friday night so the weight of the school week has been lifted from Gavin’s shoulders, leaving him feeling refreshed and ready for the weekend. When they had met for soundcheck, Tina had remarked on his positive mood, but he had brushed it off as nothing but pre-show excitement and looking forward to having a few days off class. Because that’s really all it had been. His mood had nothing to do with his phone in his pocket or the new number it had in it’s contacts.

Before long, they’re being signaled that they’re up, and the squad of them make their way out onto the stage to the sound of cheering voices.

It’s easy to fall into the swing of things. Gavin finds his rhythm quickly and the energy of the performance spurs him on. He’s done this a million times and he’s planning on doing it a million more. It’s just another show in a long line of performances. Just like any other. Or at least, it is until halfway through their third song.

Gavin looks up, eyes scanning the loud hyped-up crowd of punks and locals, and that’s when his eyes catch on a familiar face. His fingers stutter on the frets of his guitar as recognition washes over him, but he manages to catch himself and continue without too obvious of a mess up. His eyes flit away, but he can still see Nines in his mind, standing there in the crowd.

What the fuck. Gavin hadn’t told him he was playing a show, had he? No he definitely didn’t. He doesn’t even think he’s mentioned to Nines that he’s in a band at all. And yet here the asshole is. Did he find out somehow, or was this just a chance occurrence? Maybe Gavin is just imagining things. But when he looks up again, he spots the tall dark-haired man hanging near the back of the crowd, sporting a black leather jacket and watching the band play. It’s a bit hard to see from the stage, but Gavin swears the jerk is smirking as he watches them perform. 

For the rest of the set, he makes a point not to look in the direction of his school partner. He makes a point to focus on playing his part and giving a good show. And yet, somehow the image of Nines is still stuck in his mind. Even as they make their way off-stage after their set, his mind is stuck on a certain attendee.

Just as they’re entering the green room, a harsh nudge to his ribs grabs Gavin’s attention, making him jump with surprise.

“You okay?” Tina questions, signaling to him that maybe his reaction to seeing Nines in the crowd wasn’t exactly entirely internal, “for a bit out there you looked like you saw a ghost.”

Gavin knows he could write it off. Could brush off Tina’s concern and claim it was nothing, tell her she was just imagining it. But he can’t. There’s a fair number of people from his past that he doesn’t have the best current relationship with, be it exes, people he’s fucked over, or strangers he’s gotten in fights with, and claiming nothing was going on tonight will probably accomplish nothing except making Tina nervous and wary. So with a suppressed sigh, Gavin opts for the truth for once.

“I saw Nines in the crowd while we were playing,” Gavin admits, pointedly not looking at his friend as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “it’s probably pure coincidence. I don’t think he even knew I was in a band.”

“Nines?” Tina echoes, an edge of something defensive on her tone, “who’s Nines? Am I gonna have to throw hands with someone to defend your honor tonight, Reed?”

Gavin bites back a smile, a wave of affection for Tina going through him. It’s just like her to defend him and insult him all in one breath. He throws a glance in Chris and Val’s direction, grateful that they seem to be preoccupied with their own conversation.

“Uh- Richard. Connor’s brother. That guy from my class I mentioned last week,” Gavin answers, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off his face as another excuse not to face his friend, “their last name is Nines. I guess that’s what I’ve started calling him.”

“Ohhhh. You’ve got a nickname for him now, huh?” Tina teases and Gavin rolls his eyes before throwing the sweaty towel in his hands at her.

She sidesteps the projectile easily, probably anticipating it before the thought had even crossed Gavin’s mind, and laughs easily. Screw her. He knew he never should have mentioned Richard.

“Yeah well I can’t call him ‘asshole’ and ‘dickwad’ all the time, can I Chen?”

Tina just laughs at his retort and Gavin feels rage heat his face. God fucking damn it.

\--

By the time their little cohort has finished packing up their gear and is ready to grab some drinks, Tina seems to have accepted the fact that she’s not going to get any more answers out of Gavin. She had tried to pry some information about the guy, but Gavin has gotten pretty good at ignoring people he doesn’t want to answer by now. Tina is on Val’s arm, laughing at something her girlfriend is saying, as the group of them head downstairs to the bar level of the building, and Gavin feels the relief of maybe being able to drink a bit without thinking about the guy who has been taking up far too much of his thoughts as of late. 

Chris finds them a booth to slide into, and Gavin says he’ll get the first round of drinks, making his way right up to the bar. It only takes a minute or two before one of the bartenders makes his way over to Gavin, and he rattles off the crew’s order without even needing to think. They all know what each other drinks after a show. The bartender nods and starts to turn away only to be stopped by a new arrival who slides up to the bar right next to Gavin.

“I’ll get their first round. And a Founders IPA for me, thanks.”

A familiar feeling of irritation and excitement rushes through Gavin at the sound of that voice, and he doesn’t even need to turn to recognize it’s Nines who is sidled up to him at the bar.

“I can pay for my own drinks, asshole,” Gavin quips, crossing his arms on the bar and ignoring the intensity of the presence next to him. 

He throws a glance in Nines’ direction, and catches the sight of the taller man turned towards him. Leather jacket, gray eyes, and a slight smile playing at his lips. 

“I’m aware of that, _Reed_ ,” Nines responds, a patronizing tint to his tone that makes Gavin’s blood boil.

Gavin rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his heart races a bit in Nines’ presence. He hopes the guys over at the booth aren’t looking his way. He hopes Tina isn’t noticing someone coming up to talk to Gavin. He hopes that Tina doesn’t realize it’s the guy he’s been begrudgingly talking about lately. He hopes that Tina doesn’t have a chance to realize Gavin lied about the guy being-

“So you caught the show then? I thought I saw you in the crowd,” Gavin says, almost conversationally, anything to avoid an empty silence between them where he could potentially do something stupid.

It’s weird talking to Nines, knowing the guy just saw him perform not even an hour ago. There’s a nervousness that sets in his bones, and he really wishes he had a beer right now so that he would have something to do with his hands.

“Yeah I saw it,” Nines responds, just as casual and offhand as Gavin had been, “you guys suck by the way.”

Actually maybe it’s a good thing Gavin doesn’t have a drink just yet because he’s afraid he would have choked on it with surprise and anger at Nines’ comment. Okay maybe they’re not the best in the world, and yeah Tina has told the lot of them how terrible they sound at times, but as soon as the words leave Nines’ lips, a bright indignant anger flares in Gavin’s chest. He turns to the taller guy, teeth clenched and a glare in his eyes. He tilts his chin up, metaphorically puffing out his chest at the guy.

“Hey fuck you, dickwad. Those are my friends you’re insulting. Say that one more time and I’ll knock your teeth in,” Gavin threatens, knowing he’s going a bit over-the-top in his hostility, knowing his anger is getting the better of him.

Nines just smiles, something fond in his eyes as he looks down at the shorter guy baring his teeth and hissing like a cat backed into a corner. It’s this moment that the bartender returns with a few beers on tap, but the guy must have some sort of self-preservation because he stays out of the stand-off happening in front of his eyes.

“Relax, tiger. I wasn’t insulting your friends,” Nines responds, nonchalant as ever as he reaches for one of the bottles that the bartender places in front of them before getting out of the range of Gavin’s anger. 

“Just you, Gavin,” he adds, throwing a quick wink Gavin’s way before lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a drink. 

Thank god for shitty bar lighting and the heat in the room, because Gavin knows his face must be bright red with anger and embarrassment. The wink, the insult, the smile, all of it gets under Gavin’s skin like nothing else. Not to mention the fact that to an outside observer, it probably looks like Nines is trying to hit on Gavin. Sliding right up next to him, buying him a drink, teasing him, and then winking at him? Yeah those are definitely ‘I’m hitting on you’ signals. Or well it would be if they were directed at anyone other than Gavin. Instead, he knows it’s just Nines trying to make fun of him and get him irritated. Even still, he can’t help the way it makes him feel. All mixed up and frustrated and angry and- fuck…

Gavin keeps an irritated growl to himself, not giving the jerk the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to him. He reaches out for a beer of his own, taking a big swig in eagerness to get alcohol in his system. He should probably bring the rest of the drinks back to the booth and distance himself from Nines before he actually does end up throwing a punch. He throws a glance over towards the booth, giving him about half of a second to prepare before Tina reaches the two of them standing at the bar. Well, shit.

“Hey Reed, you bringing us our drinks or what?” Tina once she’s within earshot, ignoring Gavin’s glare, “do you need a big strong girl to help you carry everything?”

Gavin flips her off and opens his mouth to retort, but of course she’s not giving him a chance to get even a word in edgewise. She turns to Nines with a smile that does nothing to conceal the conniving look in her eyes. 

“I’m Tina by the way,” she says simply, and Nines answers with a smile.

“Richard Nines,” he responds, eyes flitting to Gavin for just a moment before turning back to Tina, “I go to school with Gavin.”

There’s something about that statement that sits weird in Gavin’s stomach. It’s true, that’s all they are. They’re not friends, not partners, nothing really. Just classmates. So why does it feel so weird to hear Nines phrase it like that?

“Oh so you’re Nines, huh?” Tina questions, and Gavin knows that this is not going to go well, “Gavin’s talked _a lot_ about you.”

“Oh?” Nines responds, one eyebrow quirked up as he turns to look at Gavin again.

Fuck Tina and her stupid need to meddle with everything. The only reason he’s said anything about Nines is because she won’t stop pressing about him.

“Don’t worry. All bad things,” Gavin responds with a casual wave of his hand before he lifts his beer for another swig.

A small chuckle comes from Nines’ direction and Gavin ignores the heat that blooms in his chest at the sound. That swig of beer turns into a gulp, and he writes off the feeling as alcohol spreading through his system.

“Well I don’t want to interrupt your after-show party so….” Nines trails off, eyes lingering on Gavin as he pauses a beat before smiling and turning back to Tina, “it was nice to meet you Tina. And it was tolerable running into you, Reed.”

Tina laughs at that and Gavin just grimaces and throws a “likewise, asshole” in the guys direction before he’s grabbing his beer and turning away from the pair of them with a wave.

As soon as Nines is a few steps away, Tina turns to Gavin and hits him with enough force that there will definitely be a bruise on his arm tomorrow.

“Ow, what the _fuck,_ T!?” Gavin bites back, clenching his teeth and frowning at his friend.

“You fucking _idiot,_ Gavin Reed. He was hoping you were gonna ask him to come hang out with us,” Tina responds in nearly a hiss, exasperation and venom in her voice.

“What, why the fuck would he be hoping for that?” Gavin questions, confusion in his voice before he shakes his head and focuses on the other implication of his friend’s sentence. “and wait why would I even _want_ to hang out with him? I told you I can’t stand the guy!”

“Because you lied; he’s totally hot. I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing,” Tina responds, a knowing smirk creeping onto her features, “which I _know_ you are. And because he’s into you.”

Gavin just stares at his friend in disbelief for a second before lifting his hand and pressing the back to Tina’s forehead, feeling for any sign that she’s got a fever or maybe was slipped something at some point.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks slowly, looking into her eyes for any sign of drugs or insanity. Or maybe demonic possession.

With a huff, Tina pushes Gavin’s hand away from her, frowning up at her friend as he refuses to listen to her. She shakes her head in disbelief at Gavin, but he just can’t see where she’s getting all of this from.

“My god are you thick… His body language was clear as day. He was turned towards you, kept looking at you, and I swear I saw him wink at you at some point,” Tina continues, exasperation coming to the surface in her voice, “not to mention the way he teases you—which you deserve by the way—and did you see the way he looked at you when I said you’ve talked about him?”

At that, Gavin’s skin prickles, reminded of the way she had said that right in front of the guy just to get on his nerves.

“Why did you say that anyway? The only reason I mention him is because you keep pressing me for information,” he retorts, somehow simultaneously confident and defensive. 

“Well first of all, you’re the one who brings him up. I just ask follow up questions,” Tina counters, and Gavin silently curses the fact that she’s technically right, “second of all, why do you care that I said that in front of him, hm? And more importantly why did you go red when he looked at you?”

“I did _not_ go all red, Chen,” Gavin bites back, feeling warm with the knowledge that he probably did go red.

But it was out of anger and embarrassment. Nothing else. Obviously.

Tina sighs, crossing her arms in front of her chest and shaking her head, chastising and judgmental in a way that makes Gavin feel like he’s somehow the biggest idiot in the world. Tina just doesn’t understand his and Nines’ relationship. Not that they have a relationship. Their partnership. Acquaintanceship?

“Whatever. Your funeral, Reed. Chris and Val are eyeing us so we should probably bring them their alcohol,” Tina comments, reaching to grab two of the drinks, “did you pay already? Or did you open a tab?”

“Uh,” Gavin starts and stalls, averting his eyes awkwardly when Tina gives him a suspicious glance, “Nines actually paid for our first round.”

Instead of being punched or lectured, Gavin just gets laughed at. It’s a laugh of disbelief and criticism, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. He doesn’t look at his friend, just grabs the other two drinks on the bar and turns back to his friends.

“You’re hopeless, Reed. Seriously, how aren’t you a virgin? How have you ever gotten any when you’re that slow on the uptake?”

Gavin just ignores her, walking ahead and pretending he never heard her. She’s full of hot air anyway. There’s no way Nines is actually into him. It’s ridiculous to even think.

\--

It’s Sunday afternoon when Nines reaches out to ask about working on the case assignment due this week. Gavin’s not doing anything, just sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table while he watches tv on his laptop with a lazy Riggs at his side. He’s not busy and doesn’t have any plans so yeah he could technically start the case work with Nines right now, but there’s something that stops him from replying right away. Some part of him that tells him not to be too desperate, to not be too available. It’s stupid, especially when Nines is the one who is starting homework on a Sunday afternoon and not 10pm on the night before it’s due like a normal person. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they haven’t texted since they saw each other at the show. It’s not like they’d been texting constantly, but in the days since they exchanged numbers, they’d at least send a text or two to complain about classes. Or to be more specific, Gavin would complain about classes and Nines would chide him for not working on his assignments.

After their interaction at the bar, Gavin hadn’t seen him for the rest of the night. He and the guys had hung out over a couple of drinks until Gavin hit the point of alcohol where his insecurities and fears were suppressed. Tina had pointed out some guy to him and waggled her eyes at him, asking if he wanted to go “get a piece of that”. It wasn’t until Gavin had woken up in a stranger’s bed halfway across the city that he realized why Tina had pointed out that stranger in specific. Dark hair. Piercings. Tattoos. Probably a few inches taller than him. Leather jacket discarded on the floor.

Naked and hungover, Gavin had been filled with a rush of anger and frustration as the connection had clicked in his head. Tina was teasing him about how the guy had somewhat resembled Nines. And Gavin, being the drunk idiot he was that night, had fallen for the bait and gone home with the guy. He had scrawled his number on a piece of paper, knowing the guy was never going to call, and had stumbled out into the street in search of coffee and breakfast. Anything to fight the sick feeling in his stomach.

He had spent the rest of yesterday nursing a hangover and fighting not to admit to himself what he had come to realize was true. What Tina had been implying all night. That there’s a reason he’s so affected by Nines’ teasing. That Gavin only reacts the way he does around Nines. That Gavin maybe _does_ find the guy attractive.

Sunday has been mostly ignoring Tina’s texts, watching trashy tv, and reflecting the light from his phone onto the wall for Riggs to chase. Until Nines’ message comes through that is. He should probably be productive. He should probably get some work done. He should probably respond to the guy he’s been fighting to keep out of his thoughts the past few days. But there’s still that nagging sense that he shouldn’t be too easy to get ahold of. So he tosses his phone aside and tells himself he’ll get to it later.

“Later” winds up being once Gavin’s show is over, not even 20 minutes after the text from Nines first came through. Really, there’s no point in delaying, especially when he can’t focus on anything but the phone lying a few feet to his right. So with a huff of irritation, Gavin closes Netflix and responds to the guy he agreed to work with. He pulls up the case shortly after, focusing in so he can read through it before collaborating with Nines on the actual assignment.

Gavin isn’t exactly one for group work. He’s used to doing stuff on his own and turning in assignments with only his name on them. But by the time Gavin finishes the reading, Nines has almost an hour on him and has already gotten a jump start on the work. It’s actually nice to have someone make headway so he can just jump in. Nines sends him what he had so far, sharing out a document they can work on together, and Gavin chimes in with his own thoughts on some of the questions, commenting here and there and filling in stuff Nines hasn’t gotten to yet. He throws on some music and falls into a rhythm, easily able to get stuff done.

Once again, Gavin is grateful for a lot of Nines’ opinions. There’s nothing contrary to Gavin’s points of view enough to cause them to butt heads. He learned pretty quickly after starting school that Criminology is one field that has a lot of varying opinions. It’s not something like science or technology where you go in looking to do research or just get a job and make money. Most people in the college chose this path for a reason. Some because they want to reform the system, some because they want to become a part of the system. All it took was one class freshman year on ethics and incarceration for Gavin to learn that people in this field aren’t afraid to defend their opinions. And to learn that punching someone in the face in the middle of class has the potential to get him expelled. Though really, in hindsight, that should have been a given.

They’re almost done with the assignment when Nines sends over a message that catches Gavin off guard and causes panic to rise fast and intense within him.

_Have you started studying for the midterm yet?_

Midterm? Holy fuck it’s only week 3, do they really have a midterm already? He’s about to question Nines about the question, but he figures he’ll probably get teased for not knowing. So he opens up the class page on his laptop, trying not to fear the worst. If it was tomorrow, Nines wouldn’t be asking if he had started yet, right?

He breathes a heavy sigh of relief as he checks the syllabus and confirms that they do in fact have a midterm this week, but it isn’t until Friday. Kind of a dick move to give an exam on a Friday, but hey at least it means he’s got a few more days to study.

_nah not yet. im more of a last minute cram kinda guy_

Almost immediately, it says Nines in typing. But almost as soon as it appeared it’s gone. Gavin frowns, but after just another moment it reappears, this time followed by a message.

_Would you want to cram at my place sometime then?_

The question waylays Gavin’s thoughts, making him pause and have to read it over another couple times for good measure. Is Nines inviting him to his place to study with him? He didn’t think they were on study buddy terms. He can just hear Tina’s voice in the back of his mind, saying that Nines doesn’t want to study, he wants to _study._ Fuck off imaginary Tina.

Gavin’s fingers hover over the keys, thinking over his response, over what he wants to say. Normally he would just say no. He studys better when he’s on his own. When he can turn music on loud with Riggs to keep him company. But there’s something about Nines’ invite that actually sounds tempting. He seems to be more proactive in terms of studying and working on assignments, so he’s probably got a good grip on the material, meaning it could help Gavin to study with someone who knows more than him. Besides, it’s not like Gavin has been the most focused and diligent when it comes to this particular class. But on top of the practical reasons, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to see Nines’ place. Does it match his more punk aesthetic? Posters and music everywhere? Or does it match his more collected and studious nature, everything neat and organized, focused on productivity and getting things done?

Eventually, Gavin comes to a conclusion and types out a message, feeling a weird mix of excitement and nervousness in his stomach.

_i guess if u need help i can make the time to do some charity work_

\--

In class on Monday, they decide to meet on Wednesday night. Nines had suggested Thursday, probably assuming (correctly) that Gavin’s definition of “last minute” means the literal night before an early morning midterm. Gavin had offered Wednesday instead, just so that he would have Thursday as a buffer to do his own cramming if needed. Normally one night of studying is his max, but if his focus level during classes is anything to go off of, there’s a chance he might not be able to retain anything from studying with Nines.

So at 5:45 Wednesday evening, Gavin finds himself standing just outside of Nines’ door, 15 minutes early and smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves. Nerves that he isn’t even sure the reason for having. He’s been around Nines enough now that bickering and interacting is starting to become second nature, so it’s not like he’s nervous about the social interaction or anything. The backpack thrown over his shoulder has everything he needs, notes, a textbook, laptop, chargers, and a notebook. He checked twice before leaving, not wanting to make an idiot of himself in front of a guy who would undoubtedly make fun of him for it. 

The nerves could have something to do with Tina. When he had casually and without thinking told her that Wednesday wouldn’t work for him for practice because he was studying with Nines, of course she had made a big deal about it. She had asked him what he was wearing, who it was going to be, where they were going to study, blah blah blah. He had written it all off, but maybe just the idea that he’s supposed to be nervous is what has put him on edge. Well whatever, he needs a smoke anyway.

Nines’ place is pretty nondescript from the outside. Just a townhouse in a row of many others like it about a block off of campus. Nothing really for Gavin to comment on while he smokes. He’s about halfway through his cigarette when the front door opens and a familiar figure fills up the doorway.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” Nines comments, disapproval clear in his voice and in his eyes.

Black jeans, black crewneck with the sleeves pushed up, hair coiffed back, standing 6 foot whatever, he’s as intimidating a sight as always. 

“Gee thanks for the health lesson, _mom_ ,” Gavin replies, rolling his eyes as he lifts the cigarette back up to his lips for another drag.

But it never comes, because before he can counter, Nines is reaching out to snatch the cigarette right out of his fingers. Gavin watches in dismay as the guy snubs it out before his eyes.

“Hey, what the fuck, asshole!” he yells, fist clenching at his side as that all-too-familiar feeling of anger rears its ugly head in his veins.

“I apologize, but I’m not gonna stand around and just watch you slowly kill yourself, Reed,” Nines responds, arms crossed over his chest in a way that says he’s not open for discussion.

Gavin gives a huff of frustration, but his demeanor must signal to Nines that he’s not up for a fight because the guy seems satisfied enough that Gavin isn’t about to throw a punch. Metaphorical or physical. 

Nines invites him inside and Gavin follows him into a small entryway, kicking off his shoes quickly before continuing the rest of the way into the unit. He trails after Nines into the living room, stopping to take a look at the place. Everything seems rather neat and put together, nothing too out of place. There’s a couch and coffee table set up in front of a tv, a few framed photos decorating the stand. From what Gavin can see, they’re photos of Nines and Connor. There might be a picture of one of them with a dog there too. There’s also an abstract painting of a dog hanging on the wall next to a bookshelf.

“Didn’t know you were a dog person,” Gavin comments, shoving his hands in his pockets as his eyes scan the room.

“Not particularly. Connor is rather fond of them, though,” Nines responds, standing just a few feet away, likely waiting for Gavin to finish his very obvious assessment of the room.

That comment makes it click for Gavin. The space is big enough for two people to live in, and now that he’s looking closer, it’s obvious that Nines doesn’t live alone.

“You live with Connor,” Gavin remarks, somewhere halfway between a question and a statement.

“He’s not home right now, but yes,” Nines answers simply.

That’s a relief. Gavin’s not sure he could handle Connors attention or energy right now. It shouldn’t be a surprise that the brothers live together. They both go to the same college, are in the same city, appear to be close in age, and are evidently pretty close. It makes sense for them to live together. It’s just not something Gavin had really thought about until now.

He’s about to head to the couch to sit down and get started when something catches his eye. Something in the corner, perpendicular to his position. It’s a drum kit, and a really nice one at that. Gavin doesn’t play drums, but he’s been around music and in the scene long enough to recognize a nice kit from a cheap one. He throws a glance in Nines’ direction only to find the guy watching him with a curious look in his eye.

“You play?” Gavin asks, shoving his thumb in the direction of the kit.

A smile plays lightly at Nines’ lips as he glances in the direction Gavin points. It piques his interest. Nines had never mentioned playing anything before. But then again, neither had Gavin before Nines had come to a concert.

“Yeah, since I was a kid,” he responds, eyes locked on the kit.

“You any good, then?” 

Nines’ gaze snaps over to Gavin again, appraising. Gavin lifts an eyebrow, issuing a silent challenge to the other guy. Nines doesn’t say anything, just walks over to the kit, grabbing his sticks and taking a seat. He spins one of the sticks around his fingers, as absentmindedly as he spins his pen in class. Must be where it came from.

“Is being able to do that a requirement to be a drummer?” Gavin asks, eyes stuck on the way it’s clearly second nature to Nines, “never met one who didn’t.”

Nines flicks the stick into his palm, stopping his movement as he looks up at Gavin.

“I guess we’re all just really good with our hands,” he states, a smirk quirking up the side of his mouth.

What the fuck. How the hell is he supposed to respond to that? Good with their hands. What is that even supposed to mean? Obviously you need to have good hand-eye coordination to play an instrument, but there was intonation and implication in Nines’ comment. What is he getting at here?

As usual, the guy doesn’t give him time to collect his thoughts enough to respond. While Gavin is still processing (or _attempting_ to process) the comment, Nines adjusts his position and confidently jumps into a song. 

The sound is loud and commanding, filling the small space of the living room quickly. Nines plays with stolid confidence, his moves sure and sharp as he plays a steady and solid rhythm that he sets with ease. It takes Gavin a moment to recognize the sound, but then it clicks. Knights of the Black Death. Interesting choice, but Gavin can respect it. The fact that he could recognize it from just the sound of the drums is a nod to Nines’ skill. The guy really is talented, bringing the instrument to life as Gavin just stands there and listens. Watches. Nines is a lot more controlled than Val looks when she plays. She’s always wild and carefree, lots of energy giving the instrument a life and a freedom of its own. When Nines plays, it’s a lot more structured and measured. Every beat is right in rhythm, not straying from the rules of the song. Even still, in this moment Nines looks a lot less composed than he ever has before. Eyes focused but also far away, breathing rough, sweat forming at his brow, powerful movements where the sticks seem to be nothing but an extension of his own body.

Gavin fights back the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he gets while watching Nines. Watching those skilled hands and arms play out the complicated piece with relative ease. He fights back a familiar feeling that always either leads to fun or to trouble. Or usually both. A glimmer of perspiration here, a tensed muscle there, a rise and fall of a chest, it’s all getting to Gavin more than he wants to admit. Nines is pulling him in with his performance, and it’s hard to fight that pull.

Eventually, the music and noise fade off, leaving a ringing in the air around them. The muscles in Gavin’s hand ache, and he tentatively releases the tight fist he had unknowingly clenched at his side. Nines looks up at him reaching to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. He doesn’t say anything but Gavin can clearly read that the guy is waiting for a response. A review. And all Gavin feels like he can do is stare like an idiot. Or a creep. Take your pick.

He opens his mouth to speak, but his throat feels dry, so he clears his throat and tries again. 

“Eh. I’ve heard better,” he responds, rolling his eyes before averting his gaze, knowing that if he doesn’t look away now, he probably never will. 

An amused huff falls from Nines’ lips, and Gavin hears movement as he presumably gets up from the kit and sets the sticks down. Gavin _feels_ more than he sees Nines approach him, standing just a step too close. He glances up at the taller guy, making eye contact and being reminded of the height difference between them. Nines makes him feel small, and that feeling is… interesting, but not necessarily bad. Gavin furrows his brow in confusion at the proximity, along with the slight uptick in the pace of his heartbeat. Nines looks like he has something to say, but must think better of it because he pulls away after just a moment of hesitation.

“Well you’re here to study, not to critique my drumming,” he comments, making his way to the couch and grabbing his laptop from the coffee table, “which is bold of you, given that I’ve seen you perform, Reed.”

Gavin grits his teeth, that defensive streak in him coming out to play. He follows Nines to the couch, taking a seat and dropping his backpack to the ground. He bites back some insult in retaliation, and Nines takes it in stride, hitting the ball right back into Gavin’s court. It feels so natural to bicker and bite at Nines. Like they’ve been doing this for years. Sure Nines serves an ace right in his face every now and then, but Gavin is quick on his toes.

They start studying, and Gavin realizes he was right about quite a few things. The first being that Nines has a pretty good grasp on the content of the class. He seems to have thought about the teachings a good amount, clearly a studious student. He has comprehensive notes from readings, annotations on all of the lecture slides, and all the course material organized neatly. The other thing Gavin was right about is his focus level. He hears what Nines is saying and reads what is written on their notes, but none of it is sticking. He’s distracted. He can’t focus. God why did he think it was a good idea to ask Nines if he was any good at playing drums? He said he had played since he was a kid, of course he was going to be good. But that wasn’t entirely what’s got him distracted. It’s not about Nines being talented, it’s also about how Gavin had felt watching him play. A feeling that has him all caught up in his own mind and unable to retain anything about laws and ethics and psychology.

Nines does end up being pretty helpful though. He writes up a study sheet for them while Gavin is busy scratching his head trying to wrap his head around a theory. They end up working through what Nines had written, discussing each aspect and making sure they both understand the concepts pretty fully. He had no idea how much he’s going to remember on Friday, but at least he has copies of stuff from Nines to look over.

It’s just around 9 by the time Gavin packs up his stuff to head home, still unsure of how helpful the cram session ended up being. Nines walks him to the door, standing in the door frame as Gavin heads out. He sees him off with a smile, making Gavin feel even more unsteady, that strange feeling stirring in the pit of his stomach.

\--

When Friday rolls around, Gavin feels like he definitely has a pretty good grasp on the subject, having taken advantage of Thursday to study on his own. He had spent a few hours looking over the copies of notes Nines had given him, staring at the messy-neat scrawl along the paper and trying to absorb the information. As he smokes a cigarette outside of the criminology building he glances over the study guide one more time, focusing on the things Nines had marked as important. 

When he makes his way into the building he finds Nines waiting for him just outside of the room, two takeout coffee cups in his hands. He gives one to Gavin without a word, leaving him confused and speechless, before wishing him good luck and heading into the room for the exam. Gavin takes a moment to hesitantly sip his coffee, only to be surprised once again as the taste hits his tongue. It’s strong, with a bit of cream, and no sugar. 

Gavin walks into the exam a bit dazed, wondering how Nines knew his coffee order without ever asking. Wondering why the guy went out of the way to pick him up a coffee in the first place…

\--

Gavin spends a good portion of his Saturday debating on whether or not he should invite Nines to the show that night. Val had been the one to suggest it last night, had asked Gavin if he was going to invite his friend again. When Gavin had clarified that Nines wasn’t his friend and had denied inviting him the first time around, Tina had rolled her eyes so hard it was practically audible. Val had smiled at her girlfriend and suggested that Gavin invite the guy anyway, only for Chris to chime in that they can use all the fans they can get. He had promised to think about it, having no intention of actually following through.

Ever since he woke up this morning, however, the idea had been the focus of a lot of his attention. Maybe he _should_ invite Nines. As much as he denies any sort of friendship with the guy, he does enjoy their bickering. There’s something comforting about being able to call a guy an asshole and for the guy to just smile and counter effortlessly. It might be nice to have the guy for a round of drinks or something after the show. Eventually, he breaks down and texts Tina, needing to confirm something before he bites the bullet and sends Nines an invite. 

_if i invite nines r u gonna b an asshole abt it all night?_

It doesn’t take Tina long to respond.

_If u actually invite him I won’t be. If you wimp out and dont invite him, THEN ill be an asshole ;P_

Gavin groans as he reads the message, knowing that he’s backed himself into a corner here. He doesn’t have much of a choice now, does he? Riggs mewls in response to his groan and Gavin can’t help but laugh, leaning down to give a scratch to the cat rubbing against his ankle. Well, if Riggs thinks it’s a good idea, then he guesses he’s inviting Nines. It takes him a few tries to compose a message that he’s happy with, but eventually he hits send with a nervous trill under his skin.

_playing a show tonight + grabbing drinks after if u wanna join_

Gavin’s brain wants to over analyze his message but he fights that urge, instead just putting his phone down and picking up a cat toy off the ground. If he lets himself overthink, he doesn’t know where his thoughts will lead. He flicks the toy back and forth and smiles and Riggs attempts and fails to pounce on the toy, his lack of depth perception making him miss by a good half a foot. He moves the toy a little closer, making it easier so that the Riggs can catch it, stomping on it with his paw and chewing at it proudly. 

Eventually, the sound of his phone vibrating against the coffee table catches his attention. He makes his way to the kitchen to grab a treat for Riggs, knowing that if he doesn’t, the little gremlin will be harassing him to finish play time for the rest of the day. When he makes his way back to his phone, he’s once again fighting the need to overanalyze and hypothesize about Nines’ answer. When he finally picks up his phone and reads the text, a wave of excitement, nerves, and dread wash over him.

_Sounds fun. Where are you playing?_

\--

Tina keeps her word and refrains from harassing Gavin about the Nines situation once he admits to her that the man in question is coming to the show tonight. She _does_ however keep sending him knowing glances all through soundcheck that are driving him crazy, but at least she’s not saying anything on the topic.

As soon as they go on stage, Gavin scans the crowd for Nines. It’s stupid, he doesn’t even really care if the guy shows up or not, but he can’t help the way his eyes search through the throngs of people. He also can’t help the sour disappointment that twists his stomach when he fails to find the guy. He gives the crowd another look, a bit more focused this time, and again comes up empty. Nines didn’t come? He bites his tongue hard, gaze dropping as he focuses on the song.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck, that asshole stood him up? He said he was going to be here, but he’s not. Gavin’s not upset that Nines isn’t here, no that’s not it at all. It’s just that he’s angry that the guy _said_ he would come and didn’t. That’s why he feels angry and upset, disappointment sitting heavy in him. 

When they get offstage after their show, Gavin is quick to help breakdown their equipment, desperately needing a cigarette but not wanting to abandon his friends to do all the work. Tina must notice something is up because she doesn’t mention Nines once, although she does give him a confused look more than once. 

Gavin grabs his share of stuff and tells the crew that he’s bringing it out to the van and then he’s gonna have a smoke, and they wave him off as he goes. He doesn’t realize it’s raining until the door to the venue closes behind him. Great. Fucking fantastic. Anger flares hot in his chest, making his vision tint red as he looks out into the rainy street. Gritted teeth, clenched fists, tense shoulders, he’s frustrated and pissed, groaning at his current predicament in a way that comes out closer to a growl than anything. If he had just waited 15 minutes for the rest of the crew, he’s sure he would have been fine. Val seems to always have whatever they need on her; she definitely has an umbrella on her. But Gavin hadn’t wanted to stay in there and tell the rest of the guys that it looks like Nines bailed on him. He probably has to tell them at some point, but the longer he can put it off the better. 

He fishes his phone and headphones out of his jacket pocket, glancing at his phone only to see that he has no missed calls, no missed messages. Nothing from Nines. Great. He shoves his earbuds deep in his ears, turning the volume up as he throws on some music before slipping it into his jeans pocket. He shrugs his jacket off his shoulders and drapes it over his guitar case before walking down the road. They parked the van just down the street, but he’s always been overprotective of his instruments.

The rain is cold against his skin and soaking through his shirt. It feels nice at first, as overheated as he is from the show and the anger that is still boiling his blood, but soon starts to seep under his collar, sending a chill down his spine. He unlocks the van and loads his stuff in the back quickly, transferring his jacket from his guitar case back to his shoulders. He flips the collar up, hoping to fight off the chill as he closes up the van and turns back to the venue. Nines may not have shown up, but they’re still grabbing drinks and he desperately needs a beer right now.

He manages to find an area just outside of the venue, under the building’s awning, where it’s relatively dry. It takes a few attempts to light a cigarette, the wind through the city street making it more difficult than it needs to be. Of course. Gavin takes a long drag, comforted by the burn in his chest and the warmth that fights to combat the chill under his clothes. He still feels so tense, so wound up. The urge to punch something is strong, but he knows Tina would kill him if he broke his hand punching a wall again.

Gavin is lost in thought and irritation when a shape steps right up into his space. He glances up, ready to tell some asshole off, only to find Nines right in front of him, saying something he can’t hear above the music in his ears. Wait, Nines? He’s caught off guard, thrown off his game, and all he can do is pull one earbud out and bark out a too-aggressive “what?” to the guy in front of him. Nines just raises an eyebrow at him, silently judging as he looks down at Gavin. 

“Tina told me I’d find you out here,” Nines comments, sending a wary glance at the cigarette between Gavin’s fingers but thankfully not commenting on it.

“You- wait what are you doing here?” Gavin questions, confusion and aggression mingling in his tone.

Nines definitely wasn’t in the crowd when they first went on. Did he just skip the show and roll up afterwards for drinks? Kind of a dick move, if you ask Gavin. Nines just looks at him like he’s talking nonsense.

“You invited me to your show, Reed,” Nines answers carefully, amusement tinging his tone, “was I just not supposed to show up?”

“No but…” Gavin starts before trailing off, averting his gaze and taking another drag before finishing his thought, “I didn’t think you did.”

God the words sound pathetic and desperate when they fall from his lips. It’s like he’s pouting, throwing a tantrum because some guy didn’t come to see his shitty punk band play a shitty show.

“My bus got delayed because of the rain, I probably missed your first song,” Nines explains, tilting his head slightly as a small smile glances his features, “sorry I disappointed you.”

That makes sense. It looks like it’s been raining for a while if the minor flooding in the streets is anything to go by, and DDOT is worthless in any type of weather. 

“You didn’t disappoint me,” Gavin lies, denying in an attempt to preserve his pride, “I just didn’t think you were _that_ much of an asshole. I honestly couldn’t care less if you showed up or not.”

He takes another deep drag, avoiding Nines’ gaze in fear that he’ll give himself away. It’s not a lie. He only invited the guy because Val suggested it. It was just the idea of being stood up that was annoying him. That’s it.

“Well it’s good to see you too, Gavin,” Nines responds with only a hint of sarcasm, making Gavin’s brain work doubletime to try to determine if the sentiment is genuine or a joke.

The sound of someone calling his voice catches Gavin’s attention, and he turns to see Val and Tina huddled together under an umbrella a few steps away. They ask him for the keys to the van and he hands them over, offering to carry something to get away from the one-on-one situation with Nines he’s found himself awkwardly in. Anything to stop Nines from thinking he was actually _disappointed_ at the idea of Nines not coming to his show. But of course the jerk has to offer his help as well.

The group of them finish loading the van with all of their gear while Gavin finishes off his cig, Chris joining them not long after they get to the van. It’s the first time Nines has met the group (well, officially that is), and they introduce themselves to him, with Nines being nothing but pleasantly friendly. A harsh contrast to how he acts around Gavin, pushing back, bickering, snatching cigarettes right from his grip. Gavin suppresses a smile, knowing that if Nines had been this friendly to him upon first meeting, there’s no way they would have hit it off the way they have. Aggressively and with a lot of insults, but in a way that has them on a level that Gavin may just be ready to admit is that of friends.

The group of them hustle to a nearby bar, trying their best to avoid the rain still coming down. As soon as they step through the door of the building, Gavin steps forward, claiming he will get the first round. It’s not that he has anything to prove it’s just that last time Nines had bought them a round and then bounced, and he’s not letting him show him up like that again. The rest of the crew find a booth and Gavin makes his way up to the bar and tries to flag down the bartender. He glances at the table his friends have grabbed and realizes his mistake too late.

They all seem engaged in conversation, but the problem is that Nines is participating in said conversation. Gavin’s not an idiot, he knows that Nines wasn’t going to sit around silent as a mouse the whole night. But what he didn’t consider was the fact that when he’s not around, Tina and co can say and ask anything they want about Gavin. Fuck. She’s probably telling the guy some bullshit about how Gavin talks about him all the time, or asking about all the times he’s embarrassed himself in class. Then again, the fact that he’s not around probably isn’t dictating Tina’s choice in conversation topics. Nines’ either. They both shit talk him to his face without any sort of reservations.

The bartender comes around and Gavin orders drinks for the group, waiting patiently and trying not to think about the possibility of him being the topic of conversation over at the table. The man slides him his beer and he takes a sip while the guy works on the rest of the request, trading drinks for Gavin’s credit card. Gavin is about to carry over the drinks he can, knowing he’s going to have to make multiple trips, when he feels a weight at the small of his back, a hand pressing comfortably against him through the thickness of his clothes. His head snaps over to see Nines sliding up next to him, recognition and realization dawning on him and making him feel warm. So fucking warm at the knowledge and the feel of the guy touching him so easily. But just as fast as the feeling of Nines’ hand had come, it’s gone.

“Thought you might use a hand carrying everything back,” Nines comments, aloof and offhand like nothing had even happened.

Well really, nothing _had_ happened. Just an offhand touch that was barely even there. But still, Gavin feels flustered and affected by it. His heart races just a tad and he needs to take another swig of his beer before he can respond. What the fuck is wrong with him tonight?

When they get back to the table, Gavin realizes that they’ve positioned themselves, either consciously or not, so that Nines and Gavin have one side of the booth to themselves with Chris, Tina, and Valerie facing them on the other side. The two of them carefully place the drinks on the table and slide into the free side of the booth. Nines sits closer to the center than he needs to, forcing Gavin to have to share unnecessary space with the guy and making their knees bump and brush under the table. Jerk. The rest of the band grabs their respective drinks, not even needing to check with Gavin to know whose is whose. It leaves one more bottle of beer on the table, unclaimed and thus by extension, Nines’ drink. Gavin hadn’t really thought about it when ordering, but he now sees his mistake.

“This mine?” Nines asks, reaching for the bottle as Gavin makes a noise in agreement.

Nines looks at the label for just a moment before throwing a glance in Gavin’s direction. Gavin lifts his own beer to his lips to avoid returning that gaze. Yeah he remembered the beer Nines ordered last week and ordered it again for him without asking. So what? He just has a good memory for alcohol. It doesn’t mean anything.

Conversation flows easily in the group. They talk about music a lot, soon finding out that Nines knows a good deal about it. He and Val get caught up in bonding over being drummers. Tina makes a joke at Gavin’s expense, and Nines gets a laugh from her when he adds onto it. It’s comfortable and easy. Just friends hanging out and talking. But Gavin feels off-kilter. Like something is slightly off. Because he’s distracted every time Nines gives a small laugh. Every time Nines’ elbow bumps his arm. Every time their knees bump or thighs brush. Every time Nines shoots him a smirk that feels like it’s just for him. Every time the guy leans in close to make a side remark. Gavin hides the feelings in his beer, and then a second and third once those are gone.

At some point he gets up to take a piss, barely getting two steps away before Tina is falling in line beside him. He eyes her suspiciously, but her expression is determined.

“Do you still think that you guys aren’t into each other, are you done living in denial?” she asks, straightforward and to the point.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be an asshole tonight,” Gavin questions, rolling his eyes as he tries to outpace her. 

She turns on him, stepping right in front of him and crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I’m not being an asshole, I’m just asking if you’re fucking blind or not, Reed,” she chides, clearly having had enough of Gavin’s bullshit, “because it’s clear as day that you two are into each other.”

Gavin ignores her comment and goes to sidestep his friend, but she anticipates his movement and steps to block his path again. Hell hath no wrath like a Tina mad.

“Y’all are sitting so damn close to each other. He keeps shooting you looks and interacting with everything you say. I swear I saw him wink at you at one point. And all you do is get flustered and give some half-assed insult back as you look away and think we don’t see you blushing,” Tina explains, every word making Gavin feel hotter and hotter with embarrassment, “you guys like each other.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” is all Gavin responds, feeling warm and angry.

This time, when he sidesteps her, she makes no move to stop him. He stomps off to the bathroom, practically fuming as her words hang over his head. Nines just likes to tease him, and they’re not in kindergarten anymore; pulling pigtails doesn’t mean you have a crush. And as for his own feelings… It’s nothing more than irritation and frustration mixed with the excitement of having someone to bicker with. There’s no feelings involved. He can admit by now that Nines is attractive, that doesn’t mean he wants to be with the fucker. Plus, he’s three drinks deep. Sue him for being flushed.

When he gets back to the table, Tina still isn’t back yet but there’s a bit of a problem. Nines is sitting with one arm draped over the back of the booth. On the side where Gavin was sitting. It’ll be practically like the guy has his arm around him. Gavin mentally shakes off the thought and slides into the booth, knowing that he’s making a mountain out of a molehill with this. Holy shit it isn’t a big deal to drape your arm over the back of what you’re sitting on. It doesn’t mean anything. Tina is just in his head. Making him think that nothing is something. Making him feel all mixed up and confused. Making his skin tingle when Nines’ fingers glance at his shoulder. 

Gavin cracks some joke, a snide comment at Nines expense, and the guy leans in slightly as he counters it easily. There’s the brush of fingers on his shoulder again. Nines is so close that Gavin can feel his breath against his ear. He feels warm, he feels unsteady. His heart rate feels faster, his skin feels more sensitive, he feels nervous and anxious and excited and- Fuck.

Without thinking, he reaches out and pushes Nines away from him, picking up his beer and downing the rest of it as his friends shoot him suspicious glances. Tina slides into the booth opposite Gavin and it hits him light a freight train that she’s right. On one account at least. 

He likes Nines. Fuck.

Chris covers for him and his aggressive move by saying something about how drunk Gavin is out to play, but he can’t focus on the words, on what Chris is saying. Because she’s right, she’s fucking right. The way he feels when he’s around Nines, that excited rush of feeling, that need to bicker and tease, the anxiousness, all of it only points to one thing. That he not only likes Nines’ company, but he also likes Nines. Wants him. And he’s so fucked because he knows Tina is only right about one thing, because he knows Nines doesn’t want him. Even if Tina was right about the guy being into him right now, that would change as soon as Nines got close enough. Because Gavin’s defensive and sharp exterior isn’t hiding and soft, sensitive, caring interior. You don’t break down the walls and get rewarded with a kind and caring person. You get through and all you get is a fucked up guy with more walls. A guy with anger issues and his own personal baggage, who deep down is still as much of an asshole as he is on the surface. He’s not someone to have a healthy relationship with. He’s not someone you can get close to if you want a future with him. And the proof is staring him right in the face. All it took was the realization that he likes Nines for him to lash out and shove the guy right in front of his friends. It’s not some defense mechanism, it’s who he is at his core. He’s not a good person, and it wouldn’t take Nines any time at all to figure that out.

Gavin looks down at the empty beer bottle in his hands before getting up from the booth and heading to the bar again. He needs to be drunk tonight.

\--

Gavin feels like absolute shit when he wakes up Monday morning for class. He’s hungover from last night, from the whole weekend, and there’s a tenseness in his shoulders from the moment he opens his eyes. After getting nearly blackout drunk on Saturday, he had spent Sunday night much the same way. Now he’s gravely regretting his choice. 

After a bit too long of moping in bed, he finally rolls onto his feet. He throws music on while he gets up and looks for some clean clothes, wanting to focus on something other than the feeling of death in his head and stomach, other than the feeling that has been sitting with him since the bar on Saturday. Tossing some bread in the toaster, he fumbles to put together some instant coffee before looking for something to kill his headache. He’s going to be late for class, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even really want to go. He doesn’t want to see Nines.

Nines hasn’t acted like anything is different between them, and really outside of Gavin’s own mind, nothing has changed other than one irritated shove from a drunk and anger-prone guy. He had still talked and joked with Gavin the rest of the night and had said goodbye with a smile. When Gavin got up well past noon on Sunday, he had awoken to a text from Nines, joking about the hangover Gavin must have. He had just ignored the message and pretended he didn’t care. 

Yeah, on Nines’ end everything is the same. But on Gavin’s end things couldn’t be more different. Admitting he’s into Nines, that he has _feelings_ for the guy, had fucked with him tremendously. The knowledge that nothing good would ever come out of getting involved with Nines. The possibility that Nines might be open to giving it a shot, but the eventuality of things blowing up in their face. The fear that this could, and probably will, fuck up their friendship. It’s all weighing Gavin down staggeringly.

Now when he thinks about Nines all he can focus on is the guys half-smile. The way he raises an eyebrow in quiet judgement at Gavin. The skill with which he can twirl things around his fingers. The little implications and winks sent his way. The sound of his name off of Nines’ lips. The intense desire within him to kiss those lips.

Riggs must be able to sense Gavin’s emotions, because he’s been at Gavin’s side ever since Saturday night. He jumps up on the counter to examine the toaster as Gavin pulls his coffee mug from the microwave, jumping nearly a foot in the air in surprise when the strange little heat machine buzzes right in front of his whiskers. A smile just glances Gavin’s features as he ruffles Riggs’ fur and grabs his toast from the toaster. He’s sure he would be in a much darker place without the little ball of fur.

By the time Gavin gets to the criminology building, he’s 20 minutes late for class, but at least he has burnt toast in his stomach and caffeine to bring with him into class. There’s a slight hesitation in him when he gets to the classroom door, something that makes him stop. Having to see Nines. Having to sit next to him. Shit. And it’s not like he can just sit elsewhere, not without making a statement.

He takes a deep breath and then opens the door, feeling dozens of pairs of eyes on him as he walks in while the professor is mid-sentence. Feels rather than sees, because he’s not looking at any of them, just focusing on getting to his seat while garnering the least amount of attention possible. He takes a gulp of his coffee, knowing that to everyone in the entire room, it’s evident that he’s painfully hungover. Whatever. He’s an adult and can make his own damn choices.

After what feels like a mile trek to the center of the room he slides into his usual seat next to Nines. He doesn’t even bother to take his computer out, knowing he’s in no condition to really learn anything today, just sips his coffee and fights back a groan at the way the bright lights of the classroom make his eyes ache.

“Someone got a good night's sleep last night, huh?” Nines teases, and while Gavin pointedly avoids looking at the other guy, he can hear the smile in that comment.

Nines’ voice is warm and comforting, making him feel both relaxed and tense at the same time. God he is so royally fucked. He gives a little grunt of acknowledgement but doesn’t add anything of note to the conversation. It’s a dick move to basically give his friend the silent treatment, but he doesn’t have the mental energy to handle actually interacting with Nines right now. Luckily, they’re in the middle of a lecture, and he looks half dead, so it gives him a reason to not talk besides just being a pissy little bitch. 

Gavin listens to the professor talk, but he doesn’t retain a single word of it. He tries to keep his eyes fixed forward, but he can’t help the way they drift over to Nines every now and then. Nines looks good today, but really he looks good every day. Gavin could just never really admit it to himself until now. At least not that he found Nines attractive. But he does. His tattoos, the piercings, his mocking chuckle, those striking gray eyes. Fuck. Luckily he must be giving off pretty good “I’m dead right now” vibes because Nines doesn’t try to make conversation with him for the rest of the lecture. 

As soon as class is dismissed however, Nines turns to him with concern painted clear in his eyes. Gavin pretends to sip his now-empty coffee cup in an attempt not to have to look at the guy. It’s harder to be around him now. Knowing how much he wants to kiss him. It’s like the floodgates were opened. He went from not even realizing his feelings to not being able to stop thinking about them.

“Are you okay? You look like something the cat dragged in, so to speak,” Nines comments.

Gavin glances over at him just in time to see the other guy giving him a very pointed once over. Something about the judgement in that gaze makes something hostile snap inside of Gavin.

“I’m fucking fine, asshole,” Gavin bites out, standing up abruptly and picking up his backpack, “I’m just hungover. Leave the me fuck alone.”

Nines looks up at him, confusion painted clearly on his face, and if Gavin looks deep enough, he thinks he can see hurt somewhere there in the guy’s eyes. There’s no time for guilt or self-reflection now. He turns on his heel and walks out of the room, not even glancing back as he leaves Nines sitting there watching after him without another word.

\--

Gavin coasts through the rest of his classes, barely paying attention, barely retaining anything. The rest of the day goes mostly the same. The only thing he can think about is trying to _not_ think about Nines. He convinces himself not to drink that night, and wakes up Tuesday morning feeling considerably better. Physically that is. Mentally he’s still a mess, wishing he could go back a few days to when he was blissfully unaware of his feelings for Nines.

The man in question sends him a text that afternoon, just a simple message, but with a certain expectant weight behind it.

_Are you free tonight?_

He is. He has no plans whatsoever, but before he can stop himself, he replies. It’s impulsive and he knows he’s going to regret the message as soon as he hits send, but he sends it anyway.

_no_

Short and to the point. A clear “fuck off” eminating from him right now. He knows he’s alienating his friend, knows he’s potentially fucking up their relationship right now, but he feels like he doesn’t have any control over himself. Nines doesn’t respond, and it’s like a knife to the chest, knowing that this is all his own fault. He likes being friends with Nines. He could have just kept his damn mouth shut and his feelings to himself and continued being friends with him. But he’s instinctive and hasty, violent and explosive at times. When his feelings are involved, he either acts without thinking, or thinks too much and lashes out over an anger that should really only be focused on himself. 

That’s his problem. He can’t control his anger or his own emotions. He can’t open up to people. He doesn’t soften with him. He’s an asshole. That’s who he is at his core. And Nines deserves someone who knows how to actually be a good partner. Someone unlike himself. 

When Tina texts him later that night, telling (not asking) him to go to a party with her, he says fuck it and agrees. Anything to distract him from his own pathetic thoughts for a few hours. He hates parties, especially college ones thrown by fraternities on campus, but he knows that Tina is getting suspicious of his moody replies and lapses of silence. He needs something to do, and something to prove to Tina that nothing is going on. He needs to trick himself and his friend that there’s no inner turmoil going on inside of him right now.

\--

Gavin is two beers deep, still with his jacket on, wishing he hadn’t come to this damn party, and wondering how long ago it was that Tina ran off to do who knows what when he realizes the universe fucking hates him. It has a personal vendetta against Gavin Reed and it is taking every opportunity it can to fuck with him. Because as he polishes off what was left in his cup, sitting on a table pushed off to the side and glaring at everyone who glances in his direction, his eyes land on an all-too-familiar figure across the room. The universe must have it out for him, because that’s the only possible way Nines could be at this party tonight. 

His eyes glance quickly in the direction of the front door, wondering if he has the time or the faculties to dart out of the building before he’s noticed by Nines. But when he looks back in the man’s direction he realizes it’s too late because Nines has already spotted him. He’s wearing that black long sleeve again. Just tight enough, with the sleeves rolled up part way, to make him look so damn good. They lock eyes and there’s barely time for Gavin to take a breath before Nines is making his way over to him, maneuvering through the throngs of people. He stops right in front of Gavin, looking down at him with a hardness set in his gray eyes. Gavin stares right back up at him, refusing to back down, even faced with this feeling in the pit of his stomach. Want mixed with shame and an expectation that everything is going to fall apart. Or maybe it already has fallen apart. Or maybe he’s just being melodramatic and has a tad too much alcohol in him.

“Are you done being an asshole yet?” Nines asks; a question that is more of an accusation than anything. 

Gavin sets his empty cup aside and tilts his chin up slightly towards Nines. That thing about Nines making him feel small? Yeah turns out he’s into that too. Maybe it’s the alcohol in his system, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s been trying to avoid thinking about Nines for days, but now his mind is wandering. Much further than he wants to allow it to. To thoughts of Nines making him feel small. Pushing him up against a wall. Calling him an asshole. Maybe with a hand against his throat.

He hopes his thoughts don’t show on his face. Hopes that he can hide the warmth on his skin under the guise of an alcoholic flush.

“No,” he responds confidently, willing away the warmth, the wandering of his thoughts, the darkness he knows is showing in his eyes.

Nines raises an eyebrow at him, a familiar sight that does something to Gavin’s stomach. He’s realized by now that Nines has been affecting him since day one. There was just always some other reason to excuse away his feelings. 

There’s a tense moment of silence between them before Nines gives a “hmm” and moves to sit beside Gavin. He doesn’t leave Gavin any room to breathe, sitting so that their sides are pressed right up against each other. There’s two parts of Gavin warring for control. The first wants to get as far away from Nines as possible in an attempt not to self district. The other part wants to lean into his warmth, reach for more of the guy beside him.

“You know Gavin…” Nines starts, trailing off for just a moment as he runs a hand through his hair, “half the time I can’t tell if you’re about to kiss me or punch me in the face.”

That’s fair. That’s more than fair. Whenever Nines is around, all Gavin wants to do is kiss him or punch something. Not necessarily Nines’ face, but _something._ Maybe a wall. Maybe himself. So all in all it’s a pretty good read of him. 

Gavin should deny it. He knows he should lie and claim Nines has him all wrong. That he doesn’t want to punch him, but he doesn’t want to kiss him either. That’s the best course of action. But the alcohol in his system must be affecting him a lot more than he’s realized, because when he opens his mouth to respond, a denial isn’t what falls from his lips.

“Maybe you should try and find out,” is what he actually says, a defiant challenge in his voice that he hopes doesn’t give away his want as much as it sounds like it does.

Gavin doesn’t look over at Nines after he speaks, too scared of what he’ll find. Rejection? Approval? Disgust? Anticipation? Who fucking knows. He stares straight ahead, unseeing as his heart pounds in his chest, blood rushing in his ears as he waits for a response. The party is loud and roaring, but the silence between the two of them is deafening. 

After a moment a low chuckle comes from beside Gavin and a weight falls over his shoulders. Nines hooks his elbow around his neck, pulling him in close while his free hand plays at Gavin’s forearm. His heart races into overtime at the feeling, at the touch. At the weight of Nines’ arm across his shoulders, as the press of their legs against each other, at the skin of Nines’ forearm beneath his jaw. His skin prickles where they touch, a sense that is almost electric between them. Gavin looks up to find Nines looking down at him, their faces far too close for comfort. The corner of Nines’ mouth is quirked up in a smirk, his grey eyes looking dark as Gavin meets his gaze. Gavin feels like he can’t breathe. Like he can’t move. Like all he can do is wait to see if he’s going home with a broken nose tonight or not.

“You don’t make this easy, do you Gavin?” Nines muses, only smirking deeper when Gavin doesn’t have a response. 

There’s a moment of anticipation where Gavin can feel Nines’ breath against his face, his hand brushing against his arm, and the heartbeat of his own throat against Nines’ arm. Gavin realizes that Nines is teasing him. Waiting to see if he’ll finally have the balls to make the next move. And Gavin’s tired of not making that move, tired of waiting.

In one swift motion, Gavin turns and reaches for the front of Nines’ shirt to pull him in, pressing their lips together without the need for any more waiting or hesitation. Gavin can feel Nines smile against his lips, but only for an instant because it’s barely a moment before Nines is kissing back. It may just be the alcohol and nerves running through Gavin’s veins right now, but the kiss feels incredible. He leans in closer for more, chasing that bright spark between them that is overwhelming his every sense. Nines kisses back as good as he gets, echoing the way they spar back and forth with their words. 

Nines’ arm moves from around Gavin’s throat, shifting so that he can slide his hand to the back of Gavin’s neck. His touch is warm and firm, pulling Gavin in both physically and mentally. Gavin can’t fight the pleased and hungry noise that falls from the back of his throat as Nines kisses him hard. It feels good, and he can’t help it as the kiss morphs into something a bit hungrier. 

Eventually they have to break apart, the need for air becoming too intense to ignore. They don’t go far though, staying pressed together and in each other's space. The air between them feels charged with electricity, something that has been building for weeks and is just now coming to a head. This is a bad idea, this is a bad fucking idea. Gavin knows that, but he still finds himself leaning in again, searching for that feeling again.

Nines pulls back as Gavin leans forward, a move clearly made in effort to avoid another kiss. Rejection stings in Gavin’s chest even though he knows it’s for the best, but Nines doesn’t retreat more than he has to. Instead he remains close, fingers playing at the hair at the nape of Gavin’s neck.

“If you’re going to keep kissing me like that, Reed,” Nines mumbles, something devilish glinting in his eyes, “we’re gonna have to find somewhere else to do this.”

“Oh yeah?” Gavin counters, fully aware of how breathless his voice sounds even to his own ears, “and why’s that?”

Nines moves his hand, to Gavin’s jaw, tipping his face up and giving a slight smile, one that makes Gavin want to kiss his stupid face. Nines’ eyes are dark, the black of his pupils almost overtaking the gray of his irises. All Gavin can do is wait for a response as Nines leans in, brushing their lips together for just a moment before answering.

“Because the things I want to do to you should probably be done in private.”

That sends a shiver down Gavin’s spine, a cold tingle that counters the warmth that’s spreading to every inch of his body. There’s a feeling of need in the pit of his stomach, something that is spurring him on, telling him that he can’t stop no matter how much his brain tells him to. He needs Nines. Needs to know exactly what the guy wants to do to him. 

Gavin pulls away abruptly, knowing they need to find a place to go before his clouded brain foregoes all consequences and has his way with Nines right here and now. He gets to his feet and grabs Nines by the wrist, dragging him through the crowd without looking back. He’s scared that if he looks at Nines right now he might lose it, might panic and run out of the house. So he keeps his eyes fixed forward. They’re at a frat house, it shouldn’t be hard to find an empty room. 

The second door Gavin checks leads to an empty individual study room. He lets go of Nines’ wrist to double check that they’re alone, but before he can report his findings to his companion, the sound of a door closing a locking clicks in his brain. He looks towards Nines but there’s no time to react before the guy is pushing him up against the wall and kissing him. Hard. Their bodies press together firmly, and he can’t help the eager moan that falls from his lips, but at least maybe he can blame it on surprise. The kiss this time is rougher, hotter, and the height difference comes into play again. Gavin would never admit it to anyone, not even on his deathbed, but there’s something so hot about the way Nines boxes him in with one hand on his hip and the other on his face. Nines must think that Gavin is wearing too many layers because at some point, there are hands on Gavin’s shoulders pushing his jacket down his arms and off, leaving it discarded on the floor. He reaches up to tangle a hand in Nines hair, quickly becoming obsessed with the contrast between the roughness of the buzz and the softness of the longer bits of hair. His free hand finds Nines’ waist, attempting to pull him in impossibly closer. 

Gavin is practically dizzy with the heat and want inside of him. His jeans are tight and his breathing rough as he tugs at Nines’ hair, needing more of him. They break apart after another moment, gasping down air after having gone so long without breathing. Nines’ hair looks messy, ruffled from Gavin’s hand in it, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. He’s breathing heavily too, chest rising and falling as he sucks down air between slightly swollen lips. It’s the most disheveled Gavin has ever seen him and fuck is it an intoxicating sight.

“So are we gonna do something other than kiss,” Gavin questions, trying to sound teasing but really just coming across as breathless, “or are you all bark and no bite?”

“Oh, I’ll bite if you want me to,” Nines replies, a slight smirk to his expression.

That makes Gavin flush with a new wave of warmth. Something about the idea of Nines’ teeth on him is so fucking hot. His gaze flicks down to Nines’ lips momentarily, a movement that he knows is far too obvious. When he looks back up to Nines’ eyes, the taller man seems to be studying him. He knows he’s given himself away by now. All the ways he’s reacted, to the comments and the rough treatment, knows that he’s given away just how into this he really is.

“Hm. I feel like asking nicely will get me nowhere with you, will it Gavin?” Nines muses, head tilting slightly to the side.

Yeah, Nines has him pegged. Gavin won’t do anything asked nicely of him. It’s not in his DNA to do what people ask of him. 

“Bet you’d look really good on your knees right now,” Nines comments, eyes flashing darker as he speaks. 

Gavin’s mouth goes dry at the comment, at the thought. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want that right now, but as usual, his pride likes to get in the way of the things that he actually wants or needs.

“Oh really,” he responds, trying to sound insolent, but having no idea on whether he’s successful or not. 

Nines just smirks, something nearly wicked in his eyes.

“Hm, let’s try this again,” Nines mutters, more to himself than anything.

Nines’ expression turns into something searching, as if he’s just testing the waters right now. The hand on Gavin’s face slides down slightly, moving to ghost over his throat lightly. The touch is barely there, but the promise is strong. It makes Gavin’s eyes go wide, his breath hitching in his throat. It must be a dead giveaway for his want because that searching expression morphs into something sly and determined. Nines puts a light pressure on Gavin’s throat. It’s not enough to cut off his breath, but it’s more than enough to cause his heart to beat wildly in his chest, blood rushing in his ears as his whole body turns the temperature up a notch. His breathing is rough and uneven, irregular breaths coming quick and shallow as his body gives him away.

“Get on your knees, Gavin,” Nines instructs, a command that accompanies a slight squeeze to Gavin’s throat, leaving no room for argument.

There’s something about the way Nines says his name that sounds downright filthy in this situation. Normally he hates being bossed around but the way Nines tells him what to do, dominating and unyielding in his request, it makes Gavin want to bury his pride and go along with it. His mouth is dry, his vision blurs slightly, and his dick twitches in his jeans, his entire body consumed with want for the guy in front of him, and the unspoken promise of what’s to come. Jesus fuck, this is the hottest thing he’s been a part of for a long long time.

He reaches up for Nines’ wrist, pulling it away from his throat without a word. Gavin maintains eye contact, trying to keep his gaze firm, as he pushes Nines away from him just a bit. Just enough for him to drop to his knees between Nines and the wall. Nines opens his mouth to say something else, but Gavin shifts into action before anything can be spoken. He reaches for the front of Nines’ jeans, undoing the belt and working to get them open quickly. He’s scared that if Nines tells him to suck him off, he’ll bite the guys dick off. Or come in his pants unprompted. Both scenarios are equally likely at this point. 

With hands that are rather deft for being two beers deep, Gavin manages to get Nines’ dick out of his pants. A hand slides into Gavin’s hair and he has to fight not to lean into the touch. He licks his lips subconsciously, wetting his lips as he steadies himself. Nines is probably about average, but he’s already hard, a fact that sends a rush of pride through Gavin veins. He reaches out a hand to give Nines a stroke, being rewarded with a shaky breath from the man above him that makes him smile to himself. He doesn’t delay any longer, leaning in to suck the head of Nines’ dick into his mouth with confidence.

Gavin has given his fair share of blow jobs. To boyfriends and strangers alike. He thinks it’s something he’s pretty damn good at and something that he knows how to do well. Nines seems to be happy with his work, if the heavy breathing that starts almost as soon as Gavin goes down is anything to go by. He falls into a rhythm, really getting into it and enjoying himself a bit. Nines is heavy on his tongue, filling his mouth in a way that gives only a slight stretch.

On one of his upward movements, he does something with his tongue that Nines must like because there’s a sharp gasp that reaches Gavin’s ears along with the feeling of fingers tightening in his hair. It’s sudden and the sting of having his hair pulled hurts, but it sends a wave of want through him all over again. Against his will, a low moan falls from his lips. The sound is muffled by the cock in his mouth, but Nines must register it because a moment later his grip tightens again and he tugs Gavin’s hair hard. It makes his dick twitch painfully once again in his jeans, and he can’t help but shift his position, body instinctively searching out friction. He’s not the type of guy to get off from just giving head, but he’s always been weak for having his hair pulled. Nines seems to like it too, if the ragged breath is anything to go by.

It isn’t long before Nines is warning Gavin that he’s close, in an uneven voice that catches Gavin by surprise. He glances up for the first time since he got on his knees, and is rewarded with the most ridiculously hot sight he’s ever seen. Nines is clearly affected, eyes half-lidded and dark, hair messy and out of place, sweat on his brow, lips swollen and parted, voice shaky. The guy is practically falling apart above him, that calm collected facade cracking before Gavin’s eyes. Holy shit, does Gavin really have the power to do this to him? 

Part of Gavin’s brain is screaming at him to pull off. But another part doesn’t want to stop until Nines has completely let go. So he stays, working his lips and tongue on the other guy until he’s letting out the hottest fucking broken off sound and coming hard and hot on Gavin’s tongue. His instincts say to pull away, to spit and get the taste out of his mouth, but he fights it back, swallowing as much as he can in an attempt to work Nines through his orgasm. It’s so fucking hot. So ridiculously hot to be able to take Nines apart like this. To see him fall apart because of him. 

After a minute he pulls off, barely having a second to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand before Nines is pulling him up by the shoulder and pushing him back against the wall again. The change in position makes his head spin, but Nines is quickly covering Gavin’s lips with his own so Gavin doesn’t complain. It’s unlike their kisses from before. It’s hot and wet and full of desperate need. Gavin’s head spins and his vision swims behind his eyelids. He knows Nines must be able to taste himself on Gavin’s tongue, but it doesn’t deter the guy. If anything, it might even spur him on more intensely. 

They break away both gasping for air and as Gavin catches his breath for what feels like the hundredth time in the past hour, he feels Nines’ hands at his belt, working his pants open. His whole body aches for release, anticipation and excitement coursing through him.

“You’re so fucking hot. You know that?” Nines asks, still sounding breathless but considerably more in control again. 

Gavin opens his mouth to answer but then clamps it shut again as the feeling of Nines’ hand on his dick washes over him. He wants to kiss Nines to hide the noise that he feels rising in his throat, but those lips are gone so the moan tumbles into the space between them. Nines trails his mouth along Gavin’s jaw, hand starting to move deftly along his dick. Gavin has to fight not to shake, has to fight not to whine, but damn does it feel good to have Nines touching him like this. 

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth, Gavin,” Nines whispers, hot and heavy right in Gavin’s ear and the man in question nearly melts at the feeling.

Having his voice and his breath _right there,_ whispering dirty talk to him, Gavin knows he won’t last long. Especially not when he realizes that Nines was right about being good with his hands. Every movement he makes has Gavin ready to fall apart. He feels like putty in Nines’ hands, being molded any which way with every touch. Nines’ lips trail down to Gavin’s neck and he can’t help but tilt his head to give Nines better access. There’s a sharp sting of teeth as Nines bites down, and Gavin bites back a cry. A wet tongue trails over the location of the bite, soothing it gently before Nines latches on again, sucking intensely and with purpose. They both know it’ll leave a mark, but Gavin doubts that either of them care right now. The idea of Nines sucking a bruise into his neck sounds like the hottest thing in the world right now. 

It isn’t long before Gavin feels himself nearing the edge. He tries to warn Nines but all he manages out is a gritted out and shaky version of the guy’s name. Nines seems to get the memo though, because he keeps up his pace, the steady rhythm of a lifelong drummer. Gavin can’t stand the fact that they’re not kissing right this instant, so he finds Nines’ face with his hands and pulls him back up, crashing their mouths together painfully and desperately. Nines doesn’t seem to mind, just kisses back with fervor bringing Gavin right up to the edge and over. 

Gavin gasps against Nines’ mouth as pleasure crests and washes over him, waving over him as he comes hard between them. Nines jerks him through it. Not stopping until Gavin is well spent and exhausted.

When he comes down from the waves of intense feeling, Nines is right there, kissing him. It’s gentler this time without the heat or intensity of sex. Gavin can still taste Nines between them, salty and bitter on their tongues. The kissing turns into a slow lazy form of making out, one that should worry Gavin with its heavy implications. Implications of something beyond a fast and dirty hookup between friends. Eventually they break apart and Nines looks down at him intently, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Did you have plans after this?” he asks, voice not betraying the connotation Gavin logically knows must be hiding there.

Gavin lets out a shaky breath before shaking his head up at Nines.

“I can’t go home with you, if that’s what you’re asking,” he answers, mentally wincing at how rough his voice sounds now.

Disappointment flashes in Nines’ eyes, but there’s no judgement or rejection there. Just understanding and acceptance as he nods in response. 

“Tina’s probably wondering where you are anyway,” Nines comments, stepping back just enough to give them both space to get their bearings. 

Gavin groans at the sentiment, at the knowledge that Nines saw Tina and that Tina probably saw Nines in return. Fuck, did she see them run off together? He’s never going to live this down is he?

He takes a few moments to straighten up his appearance. He tucks himself back into his jeans and runs his hand through his hair, trying to flatten the parts that he knows must be sticking up wildly. Nines hands him his jacket, and he mutters a thanks as he tries to shake out the wrinkles before shrugging it on.

Gavin is expecting awkwardness when he looks back over in Nines’ direction. He’s expecting the air to be filled with the sense of “oh fuck I just had sex with my friend”. But what he gets is Nines looking at him with fond eyes, reaching out to help him fix his hair. All Gavin can do is stand there in surprise and confusion at his friend who already looks nearly as put-together as he was earlier. _Nearly_ because there’s a stain on his sleeve, probably from where he had wiped off Gavin’s come earlier. Wow okay that’s not embarrassing at all.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Nines says, a smile and a newfound softness in his eyes when he looks at Gavin.

Gavin is about to echo the sentiment, but before he does, Nines is catching him off guard by stepping close again and leaning in to press a soft kiss to Gavin’s lips. It’s casual and so unlike anything that has happened up until this point. 

“Have a good night, Gavin,” Nines says with a bit of a wave before turning to the door.

Gavin just stands there for a long while, staring at the door and the place Nines had occupied only moments before, trying to process everything that had just transpired between them. It feels so unreal, like some crazy fever dream that exists only in Gavin’s mind. But no. Somehow it was real. And he has no idea if he just made the best decision, or the worst mistake of his life.

\--

Gavin wakes up Wednesday morning to his alarm buzzing on his nightstand with a storm of feelings inside of him. The first that really comes to him is the feeling of a good night's sleep. Getting off with someone always makes him feel sated and satisfied, and when he had crawled into bed last night, he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He feels refreshed and recovered when he opens his eyes, but the rest of the storm soon descends over him. The memory of the night before and the gravity of the situation.

With a groan he rolls over and shoves his face into his pillow, trying to will away the weight of everything pressing down on him. He hooked up with Nines last night. And it was really fucking good. But at the same time a terrible idea. Because now he doesn’t know where he stands with the guy, and none of the plausible outcomes are anything he wants to face. He tries to rationalize, tries to think through all of the situations that could come about today

One possibility is that Nines regrets last night and doesn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Which fucking sucks, but Gavin can live with it. He’s used to losing people and positive things in his life. Another possibility is that Nines just wants to stay friends, or maybe wants to work out some sort of friends with benefits thing. That will also royally suck. Because it means Gavin will be close enough to almost get what he wants, but never reach it. He’ll have to interact with Nines like he doesn’t want him more than he’s allowed to have him. Ongoing rejection. The third possibility is that Nines wants something more than hooking up with him. Which is exactly what Gavin wants. It’s what he should be hoping for, but instead it’s just another potential outcome that he’s dreading. Because if Nines wants a relationship, all that leads to is destruction. They’ll both be hurt in the end, on worse terms than strangers. Gavin has never been in a relationship where both parties didn’t walk away with a few scars. Emotional or physical. Sometimes both.

His phone still alarming loudly right by his head is probably an accurate representation of his brain right now. He reaches for his phone, turning off the alarm with half of his face still in the pillow. Once the alarm is dismissed, he can see his notifications, panic squeezing his heart tight when he sees an unread message from Nines. He considers ignoring it. Just putting his phone down and sleeping through his class on biopsychoblahblah criminology or whatever the fuck the class he has with Nines is. But fuck, he knows he can’t just not show up to class. Not after last night. So with a sigh, he sits up and checks the text from Nines.

_I’m grabbing coffee before class. Do you want anything?_

Fuck. So the “I hate you and never want to see you again” case is pretty much off the table now. Whatever Nines wants, it’s not Gavin out of his life. Honestly that probably would have been the easiest concept to deal with. But of course the universe isn’t gonna give him an easy way out. Not now. He’s made his bed and now he must lie in it.

There’s too many potential ways to answer that question, as straightforward and simple as it is, so Gavin gives up trying to figure out what to say and doesn’t respond. It’s not about wanting coffee, it’s about the message his response will send. Everything he can think to say will just dig him into a deeper hole. 

He gets up and gets ready for class, skipping breakfast and coffee with the knowledge that he might not be able to keep anything down. Especially not after he catches himself in the reflection of the microwave and sees the bite marks on his neck, bright and prominent against his skin, a harsh reminder that this shitshow he’s stirred up for himself is unfortunately very real. He darts back over to his closet a hoodie before he leaves, throwing the hood up over his head in an attempt to hide the proof of the night before. He shoves a pair of earbuds deep into his ears and throws on some too-loud music. Riggs sees him out, as usual, with a meow and a pouce on his boot. Well at least someone still likes him. Or…. _will_ still like him at the end of the day.

He smokes a cigarette on his way to class, but it does nothing to calm the bundle of nerves and frustration in the pit of his stomach. If anything, it makes it worse, lighting the memory in his mind of Nines stealing one right from his hands and saying he wasn’t just going to sit around and watch Gavin kill himself. Well now he’s going to have to sit around and watch Gavin self-destruct in one way or another.

Nines isn’t in class yet when Gavin gets there, but it isn’t long after he pulls out one headphone and claims his usual seat, slumping down in his seat, that Nines’ familiar figure walks through the classroom doorway. Gavin crosses his arms on the desk, leaning forward to rest his chin in his arms as he pointedly ignores looking in Nines’ direction, instead picking at his fingernails idly, knowing that whatever goes down between the two of them—whether it blows up today or two weeks from now—isn’t going to be good.

“Hey,” Nines says as he slides into his seat, placing a togo cup in front of Gavin, “I wasn’t sure if you saw my text or not, but I thought you might want some coffee.”

Gavin glances at the offering. Coffee does sound good, but he’s stubborn and pissy, a flurry of emotions at war within him. Their seats had never seemed particularly close together before, but today it’s like they’re pressed together. Maybe it’s his desire to have Nines closer. After being with him last night, it just makes him want to be with the guy even more. He feels hopeless and desperate, knowing that he’s about to throw everything he has with Nines down the drain.

“I don’t,” is all he says, straight and to the point. 

He can feel Nines’ eyes on him, and he stiffens up. Though to be fair, he _did_ tell the guy last night that he wasn’t done being an asshole. And he never fucking will be.

“Someone’s in a bad mood today,” Nines remarks, and Gavin has to close his eyes at the sound of a smile in his voice.

He remembers kissing that smile, the feeling of Nines’ lips against his own. He wants that again. But god damn it he knows he can’t get out of his own way.

“Bad night sleep?” Nines questions, that familiar teasing tone in his voice as he nudges Gavin playfully, “did someone keep you up late last night?”

And with that playful question, something finally snaps. That harsh tension inside of Gavin breaks and he can’t take it anymore. He knows this feeling, the all-consuming white hot sensation within him that overwhelms all of his senses. He can’t be here right now, he can’t be a part of this interaction with Nines. Not if he still wants to be a student at this school.

He stands up abruptly, not saying anything and making a point to not even glance in Nines direction. He grabs his backpack and steps away from his desk, slamming his chair back in with much more force than necessary, the loud sound of impact sharp and intense to his ears. He knows that there’s more than one pair of eyes on him right now, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t fucking care. Let everyone stare at him, let them all think he’s having a temper tantrum. Because maybe he is. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, only that he needs to get out of here right now if he doesn’t wanna break his fist on Nines’ jaw. He heads right for the classroom door, and when Nines calls his name after him, sounding concerned and bewildered, all Gavin does is throw the middle finger over his back and storm out of the room. 

Of course Nines would act the same as always. Teasing and friendly, with maybe a hint of something more. He should have known there was no chance Nines would toss him aside or cut off ties. Because Nines is an immensely better person than Gavin could ever be. And Gavin doesn’t know how to do anything except fuck things up. Anger issues, anxiety, his inability to let people get close… Not to mention his fucked up and practically non existent relationship with his family, or any of his past problems. He’s not someone you should want to keep around. He’ll snap and fly off the handle, be an unimaginable dick because he can’t keep his anger in check, and fuck up any good thing that happens to him in a panic. He can’t let good things happen to him because when he does, all it does is set him up for a harder fall when it all goes to shit. Because no one wants to be with him long term. No one wants to deal with his problems. Thinking otherwise is toxic to his mental health, and toxic to the people he’s around.

He doesn’t realize where he’s headed until he’s at his own front door, too blinded by anger and frustration to actually pay attention to where his feet were taking him. He fumbles for his keys and nearly drops them twice trying to get the key in the lock. Frustration stings the back of his throat and makes his vision blurry and he just wants to scream. Finally he gets inside, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning his back against it, but there’s still a burning in his throat and tears prickling his eyes. Fuck.

He kicks the door behind him hard with the heel of his shoe with a grunt of irritation, pain shooting up his leg at the action. He wants to punch something, he wants to get punched in the face, he just wants to be able to channel all of this pent up frustration and anger into something outwardly destructive. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes hard, trying to stop the tears that are threatening to overflow, but there’s a rising sense of panic in him that he can’t fight back. His breathing is rough and he can’t focus on anything around him. He feels so small and far away, even the pain in his heel seeming faded. He knows he’s on the precipice of a panic attack, but it feels too late to do anything about it, knowing he has no control once he’s this far into it.

It’s hard to stand, hard to focus on anything as his proprioception gets turned on his head, so he slides down to the floor, back against the door. His heart pounds in his chest, racing as his breaths stay short and shallow. Nausea takes hold, making his stomach turn abruptly, but it still has that far away feeling, like it’s not really him experiencing it. He pitches forward to fully put his head in his hands, blocking out the light as he tries to breathe, tries to fight the wild and out of control feeling in him. It’s his own damn fault he’s in this situation, and he knows it’s nothing but a huge overreaction to a problem he created himself, but that line of thinking only makes him feel worse and more out of control of his own feelings.

Something bumps his hands, and he can feel it but distantly, as if through a blanket. He looks up, vision swimming as he tries to situate himself. Riggs sits in front of him, giving a far-away meow before bumping his head against Gavin’s hand again. He reaches out, flinching at how shaky his hand looks, at how flushed his skin is due to his racing heart. Riggs is soft when he touches him. Soft. He focuses on that sensation, on the softness of the cat’s fur, trying to ground himself. He can see the tattoos on his knuckles and something clicks. The reason he had gotten them in the first place. It’s because he’s no stranger to panic attacks, to the feeling of disassociation and panic overwhelming him.

Four numbers. One for each sense he needs to focus on.

I. Something that he can see. Well he can see his hand. And Riggs. He can see his jeans and his shoes, along with the floor and the walls. He’s at home. That’s where he is right now.

II. Something he can feel. Well he can feel Riggs, soft and fluffy under his touch. He focuses on that. On that fact that he’s here in the moment, feeling something real. Riggs trots closer, climbing into his lap and then flopping down. It looks uncomfortable, but the cat doesn’t seem to mind.

III. Something he can hear. He tries to quiet his breathing, enough to be able to hear over that and the rush of blood in his ears. Running water coming from somewhere nearby. The water fountain in the kitchen for Riggs, churning to keep the water moving. He can hear that, steady and even.

IV. Something he can smell. Nothing comes to mind right away so he inhales, idly petting the sleepy cat in his lap, trying to search for something to identify. After a moment, Riggs gives a big yawn and Gavin smiles. He doesn’t think he’s ever been grateful to be able to smell a cat’s salmon breath. But he is.

That’s four. He takes inventory, and yeah he’s still shaky and nauseous, sweat making his shirt stick to him, but he’s at least not hyperventilating or about to fall apart anymore. There’s an exhaustion settling in his bones, and he knows there’s no way he’s making it to any of his other classes today. Not even if he wanted to try. He watches Riggs, giving him some scratches, relieved that he feels more like himself and not so far away anymore. 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do about the whole Nines thing. It’s his own damn fault he’s in this situation, but he knows that not engaging the guy in a positive way was probably the best move. Better to be an asshole and have a sore heart than get involved with someone and end up fucking the both of them up for good. Right? Or well… it should be. With a sigh he settles back against the door again, accepting his fate with a gravity that feels like a death sentence, his heart so damn heavy in his chest.

\--

Sometimes it feels like self-destruction is the only thing Gavin is good at. Because he’s really fucking good at it. He skips the rest of his Wednesday classes, not giving a shit about the material he’s missing, and doesn’t do a damn thing productive. Nines texts him at some point, asking what happened and if he’s okay, but Gavin leaves him on read and doesn’t respond. He doesn’t answer when his phone ring that afternoon either. That night he goes out drinking alone, not bothering to call Tina or Chris or anyone else.

Thursday he wakes up feeling like shit but drags himself to classes. Nines send him another text, checking on him again, but once again Gavin says nothing. He has a lot to say of course, but doesn’t bother typing any of it out. He doesn’t bother replying to any of his texts from friends, muting the band group chat with a blasé air, not giving a shit if they kick him out of the damn band.

Friday he plans to sleep through biopsychosocial criminology, but of course wakes up early in the morning. He spends the whole morning playing guitar loudly, probably driving his neighbors crazy, in an attempt not to think about his empty seat next to Nines in the criminology building. That night he ends up at a bar again, trying to drink away the missed messages from friends, the weight of his grades definitely dropping, and the feeling in his chest.

He should tell Tina what’s going on. He should let her yell at him and call him a moron, maybe temporarily kick him out of the band. _Someone_ needs to yell at him, and he won’t get close enough to Nines to let the guy do it. He can’t see Nines right now. He knows he can’t just stop going to biopsych without failing the class, but there’s no way he can go to class with Nines there. He would work himself into an anxiety attack, or maybe throw a punch if that happened. He should probably withdraw from the class and take the W on his transcript. But there’s something about it that feels so final. So damning. Like he’s permanently shutting the door on his friendship with Nines. Which is a ridiculous line of thinking when paired with his actions, the way he’s all but telling Nines to jump off a cliff.

Saturday sucks.

He sleeps in late but wakes up feeling like a train hit him. He should be working towards getting over Nines, but everyday just feels worse than the last. He misses talking with the guy. He misses the arguing and bickering. He misses the way Nines could catch him off guard. He misses the way it felt to kiss him. 

There’s nothing on Gavin’s agenda, so he has nothing to do except sit around and think about all the things he misses, all the things he wants. And speculate about the way Nines is feeling. Is he hurt or angry? Frustrated or relieved? Torn up or over it? Maybe the guy is expecting him to pick up the phone and talk things out. Or come into class on Monday and make amends. Well if that’s the case, he’s going to be sorely disappointed. Gavin isn’t exactly the type to repair bridges he’s burned.

That night, he googles nearby shows. He needs an excuse to go out and do anything, and if just wanders around without a purpose, he’s going to end up in a fight or at a bar. Some band whose name vaguely rings a bell is playing at a venue nearby, and that’s good enough for him. Anything to have something to do tonight. Alone.

Thirty minutes before he’s planning on leaving there a loud intense knocking at his door. Panic sets in cold around his heart, mind immediately jumping to the guy he can’t stop thinking about. Riggs meows loudly, right at the entryway as Gavin walks softly up to the door. He looks through the peephole, relief washing over him when he realizes it’s not Nines knocking. It’s Tina. Which brings a unique wave of nerves in his veins.

He considers ignoring her, turning around and pretending not to be home until she goes away. But he knows that it wouldn’t accomplish anything. If Tina sets her mind to something, nothing stops her. As if to punctuate his thoughts, she knocks again, harsh and loud, so with a sigh he unlocks the door and swings it open. Tina looks pissed, immediately crossing her arms over her chest as she looks over Gavin with judgement clear in her expression.

“You look like shit,” is all she says, stating the fucking obvious.

Gavin knows he looks like shit, he’s hungover, exhausted, and running on too much sleep. Even still, the comment doesn’t exactly feel great.

“Gee thanks T,” he responds, voice sounding way too bitter even to his own ears, “did you just come here to insult me?”

“I came here because I thought you were dead or some shit, Reed,” she responds, angry and exasperated.

Gavin rolls his eyes at her dramatics. Whatever. Let him grieve his shitty life in peace.

“Don’t roll your eyes! You weren’t answering your phone, you haven’t responded to anyone in days, and I even-” she cuts herself off abruptly, shaking her head with irritation before she glares at Gavin, “what were we supposed to think? What the fuck is going on with you?”

Gavin crosses his arms and looks away from his friend as she talks. He hates when people worry about him. It does make sense that she was worried though. He’s not the most stable person in the world. The last time they talked was… fuck it was at the party on Tuesday. She had asked what was going on with him and Nines after seeing them run off together, and he had denied knowing what she was talking about. So yeah, not the most reassuring last conversation before dropping off the face of the earth. But still, it’s only been a few days.

“Nothing’s going on with me,” he denies, feeling defensive all of a sudden, “I’ve just got a lot going on with classes.”

Something on his face or in his voice must give him away, because Tina’s expression softens slightly before she responds. 

“What are you doing tonight? Why don’t we grab some beers and watch a movie or something?”

Fuck. That sounds great right now. But he can’t. Because he knows a night with Tina and alcohol is going to end with him opening up about the whole situation. And if he opens up, she’s just going to try to talk him into making amends with Nines. He knows she is. So instead of giving in, he shakes his head and stands up straighter in an attempt to look less pathetic.

“I can’t. I’m going to a show at Shelter in a bit,” he explains, glad he actually has a plan to back him up.

“Who’s playing? I’ll come with you,” Tina states, as persistent as ever. 

The name of the band escapes Gavin, but he knows the band itself doesn’t matter. She’s just looking for an excuse to make sure Gavin isn’t alone tonight. He needs a way to get her off his back.

“It’s a ska band,” he lies, knowing that it’s one of her least favorite genres and watching as her nose predictably scrunches up at the statement, “and I’m _fine_ , T. I can go to a show by myself, you don’t have to babysit me just because I’m stressed out.”

Tina eyes him suspiciously, but she knows that he’s not the type to back down either. He can see her mentally weighing her options. Riggs catches both of their attention by meowing loudly at Gavin’s feet. Tina squats down and gives a hello as she reaches her hand out, waiting for the cat to give her a headbutt before she scratches behind his ears affectionately. Gavin chews his lip, praying that he can have at least one more night of wallowing in his own self-pity. Finally she sighs and stands back up.

“Fine,” she acquiesce, giving a small smile before adding, “but if you need a drinking buddy later, call me.”

“I will,” Gavin lies.

With one more wary look, Tina turns around and heads off down the street. Gavin lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before turning back into his apartment to get ready.

\--

The band sucks, the whole venue smells like sweat, and the beer tastes like shit, but it’s good enough as Gavin hangs near the back of the crowd and tries to let the show overwhelm all of his senses. Maybe if he forces himself into some version of sensory overload, he’ll stop feeling things altogether. He almost laughs at that thought, wondering if maybe he should start an emo band while he’s feeling so damn self-deprecating.

Halfway through the set is when disaster strikes. Either he is the most hated person ever to exist by the universe, Tina has been running her mouth, Nines is stalking him, because on his way to grab another beer, he catches the back of a familiar figure. He thinks he could recognize Nines in his sleep at this point, but if the distinct shape of the man wasn’t enough to make Gavin pick him out of the crowd, the fact that his jacket has the name “Nines” spray painted onto the back would have been a dead giveaway. Fucking hell. Nines doesn’t seem to see him. He’s up at the bar, casual and cool as ever as he talks with the bartender. The man serving is smiling at Nines, something so easy and natural that it makes Gavin want to punch the guy in the face.

Gavin knows he can’t stay, can’t risk being seen and having to interact with the man, so he turns to get the fuck out of there. He can’t face his crimes right now. Not when Nines looks as hot as ever as he apparently fucking chats up the bartender. Jesus fuck.

He’s not watching where he’s going as he heads for the door, bumping into someone on his way out. He opens his mouth to mutter an apology, but when he looks at the guy he ran into, clearly frustrated over Gavin causing him to spill a beer, Gavin sees an opportunity. And he takes it, scowling at the guy and shoving him roughly.

“What the fuck man, watch where you’re fucking going,” he growls out, knowing fully well that the interaction was entirely his fault.

Indignation crosses the man’s face, but it soon shifts to pure anger. Perfect.

“Hey you’re the one who ran into me, queer,” the man bites back, shoving a finger into Gavin’s chest roughly.

Gavin reaches out, grabbing the guy by the lapel of his jacket, forming some sort of comeback that can escalate the situation. Before he can say anything, the two of them just snarling in each others faces, they’re approached by some guy who must work security for the venue based on the look of him. They’re told to knock it off or take it outside, and Gavin regretfully lets the guy go and storms outside, red hot anger blinding his vision.

He’s barely gotten a step outside before there’s a hand on his shoulder, forcibly turning him before a fist contacts his chin. Hard. Sharp aching pain reverberates all along his jaw, a copper taste filling his mouth almost immediately. He staggers back, trying to catch his breath after having the wind knocked out of him. He spits a mouthful of blood and almost smiles. This is exactly what he’s been looking for. 

Normally Gavin can hold his own pretty well in fights. But tonight he feels two steps behind. His thoughts are wild, his stomach is sick, and his entire body feels worn down before he throws his first punch. Practically every turn, he’s getting a fist to the face or a boot to the stomach. That’s fine. He was more interested in the fight itself than the outcome anyway. By the time the guy feels satisfied, leaving Gavin bruised and bleeding, Gavin’s sure something somewhere is broken. On the upside, he’s pretty sure he busted the guy’s nose pretty bad.

He finds a place nearby where he can just sit against a wall and have a smoke. His whole body hurts, every little move causing a sharp pain or an ache to travel through his nerves. It’s actually kind of cathartic, having the shit beat out of him. Someone needed to crack down on his bullshit. And who better than someone he’s never going to see again? 

He reaches for his pack of cigarettes with shaky and bruised hands. There’s blood on his knuckles, but he doesn’t know whose it is. He thinks he might have split a knuckle when he landed a particularly hard punch. He lights the cigarette and takes a deep drag, letting the burn of the smoke fill his lungs. When he looks down, there’s red smeared on the white paper from where it had touched his lips. The smoke from his exhale makes his eye burn slightly, and he knows he’ll be waking up with a black eye tomorrow. Among other injuries. He closes his eyes and leans it back against the wall, every joint aching within him. He wonders briefly what it’s like to be someone with healthy coping mechanisms. Someone who doesn’t fuck up their own life. He almost laughs at how foreign of a concept that is to him.

“You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?”

The voice sends a chill down Gavin’s spine and an ache through his heart that has nothing to do with the beating he just took. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who’s talking, but he does anyway, looking up at Nines standing over him. He feels small again. But not physically. Mentally, emotionally. He feels insignificant and unimportant. Like he could just disappear and the world would be no worse off than it was when he existed.

“Yeah? And what of it?” he asks, voice bitter as he lifts his cigarette for another drag.

He knows he must look so pathetic, exhausted and bleeding, beat to shit and smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk. Jesus christ. If anything, he hopes this just proves to Nines how much of a bullet he dodged by not getting further involved with him.

Nines just looks at him for a moment, not saying anything before he sighs and crouches down to be on a more even level with Gavin. This way, it’s even worse. Being able to see Nines’ gray eyes, his lips. Having him so close just reminds Gavin of all the things he can’t have. Nines reaches towards him and Gavin flinches, thinking for a second that he’s going to be punched, before realizing that Nines is just handing him something. A water bottle.

“Here, wash out your mouth with this,” Nines says, voice cold and even.

“What is it?” Gavin questions suspiciously, taking another drag and making no move to take the bottle that Nines offers to him.

“It’s battery acid,” Nines deadpans before narrowing his eyes in frustration, “what do you think it is, Gavin? It’s water.”

Gavin wonders if he hit his head at some point in the fight because none of this is really making any sense. It’s gotta be some strange fever dream caused by a concussion.

“Why?” he questions, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

The look Nines gives him is incredulous and exhausted. Gavin can’t decide if he’s expecting Nines to hit him, or storm off and not come back. But instead of either of those things, Nines stays where he is, continuing to hold out the water bottle. 

“Can you not be an asshole for 5 minutes and let me help you?” Nines questions, sounding more worn down than Gavin has ever heard him.

Tentatively, Gavin snuffs out the butt of his cigarette on the ground and takes the bottle, lifting it to his lips slowly. He rinses the tang of copper out of his mouth, wincing at the sting where the water hits everywhere his gums and cheeks are busted open. He jumps when he feels Nine’s touch on his free, instinctively trying to pull back from the touch, but Nines holds his hand tight, not letting him pull away. Gavin eye’s him cautiously as he sips at the water, suspicious of the man’s actions. Nines doesn’t look at him, just takes a wet napkin and starts wiping the already drying blood off of Gavin’s hands. He’s more gentle than Gavin would be with himself, but harsher than Tina is whenever she has to patch him up after a night like tonight. He watches, confused and wary, as Nines takes a bandage and spreads it over his scraped and split knuckles. He has no idea what to think, no idea how to process the information that Nines is patching him up. After days of Gavin making it perfectly clear that he wants nothing more than for Nines to fuck off. 

“Let me see your other hand,” Nines says, tone leaving any emotion out of it, as if he doesn’t want Gavin to be able to read him.

Gavin doesn’t know how to handle the situation, so he switches the water bottle to his now-bandaged hand and holds out his other hand to Nines. It feels nice to be able to touch again. He wishes he could never stop touching Nines. He wants Nines’ hands on him always. Their hands are such a sharp contrast. Nines’ skin is lighter than Gavin’s and his hands look unblemished compared to Gavin’s, beat up and bloody, tattoos inked onto them. Nines has his nails painted, an intense black that looks good with his skin tone. And it’s kind of hot. He’s not sure _why_ he thinks it’s hot. He’s never had a thing for guys wearing nail polish before, but Nines is different than all the guys who came before him. For some reason he’s so drastically different.

Gavin finishes off the bottle of water as Nines finishes bandaging up his hand. He takes the empty bottle from Gavin without a word. He glances over Gavin’s face, looking into his eyes like he’s testing for something.

“Do you know what today’s date is?” Nines asks, careful and searching.

Gavin wants to roll his eyes but he fights back the urge. Something in him is telling him to be cooperative for once in his life.

“It’s Saturday, February 3rd, we’re in Detroit, Michigan, and my name is Gavin Charles Reed,” he rattles off, getting all of the usual concussion questions out of the way in one shot.

A small smile quirks at the corner of Nines’ lips, a familiar spark of playfulness coming to life in his cool gray eyes.

“Your middle name is Charles?” he questions, something in his tone making it sound like he’s teasing Gavin.

Teasing. That’s familiar and welcome. It sends a sense of warmth through Gavin, making him feel comfortable and happy. But almost as soon as it comes, it’s gone. Because this is temporary. Whatever this is.

“Got something to say about it, _Richard_ ,” Gavin shoots back, a smirk just barely ghosting his lips.

Nines chuckles softly, a sound that Gavin wants to bottle up and keep in his pocket for the rest of his life. But when Nines looks at him, any playfulness between them is gone again. His eyes are analytical, and focused as they look over Gavin.

“Make sure you put ice on your eye when you get home,” Nine instructs, serious and almost imploring, like he knows Gavin won’t take care of himself unless he has to.

Gavin nods, and with that action a silence falls between them, one that isn’t comfortable or easy. It’s tense and charged, making tension form in Gavin’s sore muscles. Nines shifts, and for a minute Gavin thinks he’s about to get up and leave, but instead he just moves to sit next to Gavin on the ground, back against the wall. Gavin glances over at him, seeing how his fingers drum on his thigh. Those long fingers with the black nail polish. He’s disappointed he didn’t get to experience more of those hands. Nines _was_ good with them.

“You know, if you didn’t wanna be involved with me you could have just told me,” Nines says, terse and tight.

Gavin shuts his eyes and knocks his head lightly against the wall behind him. That’s not it. That’s not it at all. Nines is so far from the truth that it’s laughable. The whole problem is that Gavin does want to be with him. Immensely so. He can lie, keep lying and pretend that being with Nines isn’t what he wants. It would probably make things go a lot easier. But there’s something that makes Gavin want to tell the truth.

“It’s not that I didn’t wanna be involved with you. I did,” Gavin explains, trailing off for a moment before adding, “I _do_.”

Nines laughs, but this time it’s not warm or amused. There’s nothing happy about it. It’s bitter, and it cuts deep. 

“You don’t have to lie, Reed,” Nines says, so sour and acidic that it makes Gavin’s stomach churn, “you’ve made your feelings very clear.”

Gavin opens his eyes at that, heart aching at the emotion in those words. He looks at Nines, but the guy isn’t looking in his direction. He’s staring across the street with focused eyes, but Gavin knows he’s not looking at anything. He’s just not looking at Gavin. This time, Gavin can read his tone and his expression, can clearly see what Nines is feeling for maybe the first time. He’s hurt. Rejected. He looks discarded and lost. It hurts Gavin to look at him, knowing that it’s his damn fault that Nines is feeling this way. He didn’t think Nines would care that much. He was trying to save them both from this kind of thing, from having their hearts broken. Look all the good that did him.

“I’m not lying. I want to be involved with you. I want more of what happened at the party, I want more than that,” Gavin explains, averting his eyes from the forlorn expression of his friend in fear that they might make eye contact, “but that’s the problem and that’s why I had to run away like a fucking coward.”

There’s a pause where Gavin let’s his words hang in the silence between them. He really wants another smoke, but he doesn’t want to see that judgemental and disappointed look on Nines’ face. So he doesn’t reach for his pack, just picks at a loose thread at the knee of his jeans.

“I wanna be with you. And you wanna be with me. What am I missing here?” Nines asks, voice slow like he’s trying to fit together two pieces of an extremely complex puzzle.

This time it’s Gavin’s turn to laugh bitterly. He runs a hand through his hair, acutely aware of the bandages and lack of blood on his fingers now that Nines has gone out of his way to help him. All while thinking Gavin didn’t want anything to do with him. God, Nines is far too good for him. But he knows that.

“You’re missing the part where I’m not exactly the best person. I’m an asshole. I get what I want and I panic and shove you, or flip you off, and then go home and have a panic attack,” Gavin explains, exasperated and immediately regretting admitting to his pathetic little panic attack, “you’re missing the part where I see you at a show and purposely go pick a fight just to get my ass beat. You’re missing the part where I’m not a good person and any involvement you might have with me isn’t going to end well.”

“Wait… did you think I didn’t know you’re an impulsive asshole with anger issues?” Nines asks, expression a bit brighter than it was a minute ago, “I hate to break it to you, Reed, but you’re not exactly subtle.”

Gavin looks over and catches Nines’ gaze. He’s still hesitant and searching, but there’s a hint of something else there. With a start, Gavin recognizes it as hope. A dangerous dangerous thing. This is bad. He should have lied, shouldn’t have let Nines think there was a shot in hell that things could actually work out well between them.

“Look, every relationship I’ve ever had has ended badly,” Gavin explains, a darkness to his tone that he wasn’t expecting, “it’s better for you to just save yourself the trouble and move on.”

“You don’t think it’s worth it to give it a shot?” Nines asks, like Gavin had never considered the possibility; like the answer is obvious.

“No. It’s not,” Gavin responds, resolute and adamant, steadfast in his belief, “you’re just gonna regret getting involved with me at all.”

Nines gives a quiet “hm” in response to Gavin’s statement, giving nothing away. Gavin wants this conversation to be over, wants to move on from this shitshow he’s gotten himself trapped in. He doesn’t want to be responsible for hurting Nines any more than he already has.

“You know… you shouldn’t have told me you wanted to be with me,” Nines comments, voice far too casual and offhand for Gavin to feel comfortable.

“And why’s that?” Gavin asks, rightfully suspicious.

Nines shoots Gavin a smile, something sly in his expression. Gavin is on his guard, but he has no idea what to expect from the direction the conversation is headed right now.

“Because I’m not gonna leave you alone until you give us a shot,” Nines states, so matter of fact, “I’ll be at every one of your shows, asking you out each time until you say yes.”

Nines sends him a wink, and all Gavin can do is stare, brain trying to process what exactly the guy is proposing. Or threatening.

“That’s harassment. I could get a restraining order, you know,” he counters, on the defensive all of a sudden, but there’s no malice behind his words.

Nines looks at him before raising an eyebrow. It irks Gavin how much that look can still affect him.

“Alright. Tell me to fuck off,” Nines challenges, clearly testing Gavin, “tell me right now that you want me out of your life, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Gavin opens his mouth before realizing he doesn’t know what to say and closing it slowly. That’s not what he wants at all. But it will solve this problem of Nines wanting to give them a shot. Nines if giving him an out right now. He’ll give up and turn around and leave Gavin alone if Gavin tells him to. It’s clear that Nines isn’t expecting him to take it, is expecting Gavin to back down and give it.

“What makes you think I won’t?” he questions, meaning to sound inquisitive, but coming across as challenging.

Nines smiles, and Gavin is halfway to giving in.

“This.”

That one word is all the warning Gavin gets before Nines leans in and presses their lips together. It makes his bottom lip ache from the beating he took earlier but he doesn’t care. Because Nines is kissing him again. His eyes slip shut and he has absolutely no control over his body when he kisses back. It feels amazing, somehow better than his memory. Nines slides a hand to rest on his cheek, making Gavin lean further into the kiss as his heart races wildly in his chest. The kiss is much gentler than anything that happened before. It’s soft but intense, somehow scrambling all of Gavin’s thoughts until all he can focus on is Nines. He wants to live in this moment forever. He wants to never stop kissing Nines. Maybe that possibility is worth a shot. 

When Nines pulls away, Gavin is breathless and filled with an intense need for more. Not just more kisses. More of Nines. Of his touch, and his teasing. His laugh and his smile. Holy shit he is so infatuated with Nines it’s practically dizzying.

“If you want me to give up, just say the word Gavin,” Nines mumbles, a moment of clarity and sincerity, “but there’s no way I can be in your life and not want you.”

Fuck. There’s no teasing, no confidence, no audacity in Nines’ words now. It’s a genuine out. Not a challenge, not a test, nothing like that. It’s clear that Nines is willing to walk away if that’s what Gavin truly wants. But not without heartbreak. That much is apparent. This doesn’t feel like some last ditch effort to get into Gavin’s bed, or some chasing of a casual crush. No, this feels like Nines actually wanting to get to know him. To be with him. And those last few words…. Gavin squeezes his eyes shut. How the hell can he say no to that.

“I’m just letting you know now that if Riggs doesn’t like you, we’re breaking up immediately,” Gavin comments, knowing there’s nothing in his programming that will let him be sappy or genuine right now.

The smirk that Nines gives him is both brilliant and blinding. It makes Gavin’s heart skip like a fucking teenage girl with some schoolyard crush. It’d be embarrassing if anyone ever knew about it. 

“So does that mean we’re together now?” Nines asks, like he already knows the answer. 

“Obviously,” Gavin responds, rolling eyes and fighting back the smile that threatens to crack his already whittled down exterior.

Nines starts to say something else, but there’s no way Gavin is letting him get the last word in. He reaches out for the front of Nines’ jacket, pulling the guy in roughly for another kiss. Nines chuckles into the laugh, smiling against Gavin’s lips, and Gavin thinks that hey maybe Nines is right. Maybe this is going to be worth it…

\--

When Gavin wakes up Sunday morning, it’s already light outside. The sun sends uneven stripes of light and shade across his bedroom. Everything aches and hurts, but he doesn’t mind so much, because he’s happy. He’s nervous of course, but there’s a sense of contentment in his chest that he thinks he could get used to. Riggs is curled up against the back of his legs and Nines is still here. Asleep next to him in his bed. He looks so peaceful and serene, asleep on Gavin’s pillow. His hair looks messy, a mix of bed head and slept-on sex hair ruffling it all out of place. It looks good on him like this. Gavin is torn between wanting the guy to stay like this with him forever, and wanting him to wake up. 

He lies there for a few more minutes, just enjoying the comfort of having Nines close. He’s never been the sentimental type, but there’s something about lying between Riggs and Nines, his two favorite guys, that makes him feel like that has the potential to change.

Eventually he reaches for the phone on his nightstand, careful not to disturb either of the sleeping creatures sandwiching him right now. He pulls up Tina’ contact number and types out a message.

_so how did nines know where i was going 2 b last night?_

All he gets back is a single emoji, but it’s enough to confirm his suspicions: a smiling emoji with an angel halo. He laughs slightly to himself before putting his phone down. He can’t really be mad. Not when he has Nines.


End file.
